


Youth's Final Luxury

by lls_mutant



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/pseuds/lls_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta didn't have much to do with each other, until they were both working for President Gaius Baltar.  Zarek-Gaeta genfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Chapters 1-6 before Season 4.5 aired, when all we knew was that Zarek and Gaeta would have a plotline together. I realized they would have known each other on New Caprica, and either hated each other or really liked each other. Since New Caprica was supposed to be a new beginning, I went for the later. There are a few inconsistencies with canon, most notably the content of Gaeta's secret, but they aren't too big. After I saw The Oath and Blood on the Scales, I knew I had to write the rest of it.

"Vice President Zarek, this is Lieutenant Felix Gaeta."

"I've heard the name," Tom said, extending his hand to the stiffly formal young man who stood next to Baltar. Gaeta's eyes flashed briefly to Baltar before he accepted the handshake, but his hand was firm around Tom's.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he answered.

"Lieutenant Gaeta will be serving as my Chief of Staff," Baltar explained, "once his discharge from the military is complete."

"I see," Tom said neutrally. "When should that be?"

"I'm not sure, sir, but it shouldn't take long." There was an air of discomfort about Gaeta, his eyes slipping away from Tom's for a moment as he clasped his hands behind his back. Tom raised his eyes at Baltar, who shook his head just slightly. So. There was a story here.

"Well, I look forward to working with you," Tom said easily.

"As do I, sir."

Three _sir_s in as many sentences. Tom couldn't _wait_ to hear Baltar's explanation for this one.

***

"Well?" he asked, when he and Gaius were alone.

"He's very efficient," Gaius explained, settling down at his desk. "Very bright young lad."

"Military through-and-through. Adama hasn't exactly been your biggest supporter."

"Yes, well. Adama may not have been. But it turns out that you were right, Tom, about the election being fixed." Gaius leaned back in his chair, picking up a pen and turning it over in his hands. "I still cannot believe that Roslin herself had anything to do with it-" Tom allowed himself a snort of disbelief at that, but Gaius ignored him- "but it was, indeed, fixed."

Realization dawned. "Gaeta blew the whistle on it."

"Yes."

"Loyalty to you?"

Gaius quirked an eyebrow. "Do you doubt it?"

"Not really," Tom replied lightly, although he'd want a verification on that hypothesis. "I assume Adama isn't too happy about it."

"Yes, well, there are reasons it shouldn't take long for him to join the staff." Gaius leaned forward and poured them both a glass of whiskey. He leaned back and examined the color of the liquor, turning the glass so it caught the light. "Although I have to confess I take a certain delight in anything that annoys Adama right now."

Tom grinned. "I'll drink to that."

***

Felix closed the box and marked it firmly with his name. Dee, sitting on the table, watched him with sad eyes.

"Would you stop that?" he demanded, swatting at her playfully. "I'm going down to the planet. Stop acting like I'm going into exile."

"I'm still surprised," Dee said.

"Why? Dee, the war is over," Felix said. "The Cylons aren't going to find us here. It's done. There's nothing left in the Fleet any more." He smirked. "At least, not for me."

Dee didn't even look embarrassed at what he was implying. Her mind seemed much further away. "You're really going to work for Gaius Baltar."

"He's the President, Dee. That's who the Chief of Staff usually works for." He sighed. "Come on. In a few years the _Galactica_ will be decommissioned, and you and Lee will be down on New Caprica raising a hoard of fat babies and I'll drop in, spoil them rotten, and sneak them lots of sugar before I leave for the night."

"Right," Dee laughed, but there was a wistful look in her eyes. "Look, Felix, I understand you wanting to go down to the planet. I do. But I just can't shake the feeling that Baltar's going to make a mess of it."

"President Baltar is a brilliant man," Felix replied stiffly. "He-"

"_Please_ do not start on the credentials of Gaius Baltar again," Dee groaned. "He might be brilliant, but he has no concept of-"

"Stop. Just stop." Felix snapped, and they stared at each other for a long, tense moment. "My transport leaves in twenty minutes," he said finally, his words cutting through the silence. "Let's not go through this again."

For a moment, Dee looked mutinous, but then she nodded. "You're right," she said, pushing off the table. "You're right," she repeated, half-throwing her hands up. "This isn't the way to say goodbye. Who knows when we'll see each other again."

Felix sighed heavily. "In a few days, when you come down to New Caprica on a Raptor, Dee. I keep telling you, the war is _over_. We're safe. We're done." He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, pulling his shirt down as it rode up. "Everything is going to be fine."

***

Felix was one of the first to leave the _Galactica_, but there was no real ceremony to it. No applause and no jeers, just a few quick good-byes from people who were staying, like Helo and Skulls and Hoshi. And when he climbed on the Raptor to go down to the planet's surface, he felt like the weight of a past life was being left in orbit, and he was staring into a vast unknown, filled with promise.

When he stepped of the Raptor, Gaius Baltar and Tom Zarek were waiting for him with a bottle of champagne, ready to begin the world.

***

"Mr. Gaeta," Tom said, walking into the cramped room that was serving as an office. "Do you have a copy of the plans for the water reclamation plant? I have a meeting with McMahon and I suspect I'll need a spare… what are you reading?"

Gaeta looked up, surprised. "The Articles," he answered.

"The Articles?" Tom asked, amused. "You're reading the Articles?"

Gaeta shrugged. "I haven't read them since I was in high school. I can recite just about any tech manual you ask for, but the basis of government?" He grinned sheepishly, and then stood up and started rifling through a pile of papers. In seconds he was handing Tom the plans. "I have another two copies, but beyond that I'll have to make more. Not difficult, but possibly a waste of resources at this point. While you're here, Mr. Vice-President, you might want to take a look at this."

Tom took the extended file. "Building codes and labor specifications?"

Gaeta nodded. "I've read it already and marked the changes that I think are relevant, and I've given a copy to the President, but I thought you might want to take a look at it as well. I've also made copies for the Quorum representatives and-"

"Most of them won't read something like this," Tom said, flipping through the packet. "Too low-level."

Gaeta shrugged, but Tom could see the skepticism in his eyes. The kid honestly thought that the Quorum would care about the details, when all they really cared about was that the work got done and their constituents were happy. All that mattered to them was that these codes even existed.

"Right. I'll take a look at it. I'll see you later, Mr. Gaeta."

Gaeta nodded and then sat back down at his desk, bending over the Articles again. Tom shook his head and shut the door behind him. Gaeta was clearly planning to be here late into the night. The kid was going to burn out in a matter of months.

But still, a tiny voice reminded Tom what it was like to be young like that.

***

The sun was setting, coloring the sky a washed-out red. On Sagittaron over twenty years ago, Tom wouldn't have even noticed, but here on New Caprica it was a thing of wonder. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he had to swallow before he could continue.

"I'm not saying that the capitalist economic model is a thing of the past," he insisted. "I'm saying it's not effective or efficient for our present situation. We can plan for that model- evolve to it- but right now it doesn't fit the needs of forty thousand people trying to build a civilization with exceedingly limited resources."

"I understand that, Tom, but a collective arrangement denies people of the rights that should be theirs," Gaius riposted, titling back in his chair and turning the glass of ambrosia in his hand. "People need incentive, reward. Surely _you_ don't think a government can mandate people's work ethics?"

Gaeta spoke up. "But sir, right now, _everyone_ is lacking. No one has much of anything. There needs to be some way to ensure that what we do have is distributed equitably."

"Put it on the agenda for tomorrow," Gaius said, waving a hand. "Or sometime soon, at any rate. And if you're both so concerned about the people's precious rights to poverty and dragging each other down, then perhaps you should be living in tents like everyone else." He leaned his head on his hand and picked up a pen, flicking it between his fingers.

Tom and Gaeta exchanged glances. "Mr. President," Gaeta said, "we are. We decided when we landed that having the staff live here was too big a drain on the ship's resources."

Gaius seemed surprised by that, but pleased. "Oh, well. That's settled. That will be all for tonight." Tom sighed and began gathering his papers, but Gaeta leaned forward.

"Mr. President, there's still the matter of the next group of settlers. I think-"

"Mr. Gaeta," Gaius began. "Felix. I am giving you the rest of the evening off. Relax. Get drunk, get yourself laid, and come back tomorrow."

Tom hid a smirk as Gaeta looked down at the desk. "Yes, sir," he demurred, and began gathering his own things.

"Well," Tom laughed as they left the President's office, "that's a pretty easy order to obey. Come on. I'll buy you a drink."

They hadn't even broken ground, but already a tent was set up for the distribution of alcohol. Tom heartily believed that any time a civilization was established, the first thing humans did was find whatever could to frak themselves up. He put a hand on Gaeta's back and half-guided, half-pushed him into the tent. The tent was crowded, but a few people gave way when they spotted Tom. A nod here, a clasped hand there, a personal inquiry addressed to a name that he remembered… the warmth in the crowded tent went up a few degrees.

"Don't you ever relax?" he asked Gaeta when they were seated at a table.

Gaeta raised his eyebrows and his glass. "I am relaxed."

"No, you're not. You're watching everything I do and analyzing it."

"Civilian politics is new territory to me," Gaeta said. He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Tom, who accepted it. "I have a lot of catching up to do."

"You never thought of a political career?" Tom asked casually.

"Well, no." Tom waited, but Gaeta didn't continue. He was staring moodily at the table top, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

"Tell me something," Tom began, and paused as Gaeta coughed. "In that documentary that they showed about _Galactica_, you said all you'd ever wanted was to be an officer on a battlestar."

"Yeah, but now that we're hidden from the Cylons-"

"That's not what I'm asking," Tom said with a smile. "I'm curious. Why was that such a lifelong ambition for you? Military family?"

"Oh. No, my parents weren't military," Gaeta said, and Tom noticed that he spoke of them quite easily despite their assumed deaths. "My father was a contractor, though. He designed hulls for large military ships, particularly battlestars. Sometimes he'd take me along on inspection visits." Gaeta grinned nostalgically. "The first time I was ever off-planet was when we visited the Battlestar _Solaria_. He met my mother when he was working on the Battlestar _Pegasus_, actually. She was installing the Viper fueling system there."

"I'll bet that made for really interesting dinner conversations at your house," Tom said sarcastically.

"My mother says- well, said, anyway- that 'tylium' wasn't my first word, but it was in the first twenty." Gaeta's smile was twisted as he stubbed out the cigarette and pulled out another. "But needless to say, they weren't upset when I said I wanted to join the Fleet."

"You sound very relaxed about them."

Gaeta snorted. "It's not like I'm the only one who lost my family when the Cylons attacked," he said. He took a deep drink, finally indicating to Tom that the question and the subject agitated him much more deeply than he wanted to let on. "Besides, they were older."

"Lots of older siblings?"

"None. I'm on only child."

"Miracle baby," Tom realized. It was funny how such a little fact could explain so much, like the oddly sheltered air about an otherwise confident commanding officer. He filed it away for further reference, along with the shrug that Gaeta gave at the description.

They continued to talk, mostly inconsequential things that people talk about in bars. But Tom learned a lot. He saw the way Gaeta nodded to the few people from Galacitca already on New Caprica but didn't join their conversations. He noticed that Gaeta wasn't prone to eyeing low-cut shirts and long, slender legs. And by the end of the evening, he knew three times as much about an FTL drive and navigation systems than he had before, which was far more than he ever wanted to know. It was enough to paint a quick sketch of the man Baltar had chosen as a Chief of Staff, and Zarek felt that the drinks he'd bought were money well spent.

***

"You need a suit," Tom announced from the doorway.

Gaeta looked up. "I know," he sighed, glancing down at the casual clothing he was wearing. "But I only had the one with me on _Galactica_. Not much call for suits in the Colonial Fleet."

"I know." Tom smiled. "Come on."

"But I need to-"

"Felix, the President will live if whatever you're doing is not on his desk in the next five minutes. In fact, I expect he won't get to reading it until two days after you put it there anyway, so you can take an hour."

Gaeta hesitated. "The marketplace is still pretty chaotic," he said dubiously.

"That's not what I had in mind. Come on."

As they walked through the busy streets, a vaguely familiar smell hit them. It took Tom long moments to recognize it, but then he heard the whir of a saw and the memory clicked. Sawdust. And he recognized the young man cutting poles from the spindly trees that grew near the settlement. The worker stopped and waved cheerfully to them.

They continued through until they came to a tent. Tom knocked respectfully on the pole, and an older woman with thick gray hair done up in a twist pushed the flap aside. She smiled as she saw them. "Good morning, Tom. Please, come in."

Tom entered, gesturing with his head for Gaeta to follow. He obeyed, crossing his arms and looking around awkwardly.

"How are you today, Celia?" Tom asked. Spread out on any surface that could possibly hold them were detailed drawings of sewage, power, and water systems. Tom fingered one for a moment, and then focused his full attention on the woman before him.

"I'm fine, Tom." Celia gave him an easy smile. "I almost have those proposals done. I have three different scenarios for you to take a look at, but I'd also like to get Martins down from the _Demetrius_ to discuss the treatment facilities."

"I'll see to it that he's early on the settlement schedule," Tom agreed. "Celia, this is the President's Chief of Staff, Felix Gaeta."

Gaeta extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Very nice to meet you." The smile wasn't so easy any more, and Tom felt for her. She was one of forty thousand sad stories looking for a new start. She looked Gaeta over and turned back to Tom. "You're right. He should be about the same size. You're the navigator from the _Galactica_, right?"

"Yes ma'am."

"My husband was the navigator on the _Valkyrie_ before he retired and went into defense contracts. I know how unappreciated the position often is." She knelt down and pulled a trunk out from under her bed. "We were travelling to our son's graduation on Tauron when the Cylons attacked. My husband died from a head wound, and obviously, our son…" her voice quavered and she shook her head. Tom laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Gaeta stuffed his hands into his pockets, obviously very uncomfortable. Celia surfaced with several items of clothing in her hands. "They were meant to be graduation gifts. I know I should have done something with these, given them to someone who needed them," she said, "but I just couldn't let go."

"Ma'am, I… I can't-"

Behind Celia, Tom shook his head furiously, willing the young man to understand. This woman was waiting to give these tokens to someone in a way that had meaning to her, and this was it. This was not just a donation, but a burial as well, and the only one she was going to get. Gaeta's eyes lit with understanding, and he took the clothing as if he was accepting a folded Colonial flag.

"Thank you," he said in a strangled voice.

"Thank _you_," Celia whispered.

Tom let the moment linger between them, and then touched Celia gently on the shoulder again. "I'll be in touch regarding the plans, all right? Celia nodded, wringing her hands together, and Tom hugged her carefully. "I'm so sorry for your losses," he murmured in her ear.

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President," she said, and then released him and moved over to her work table. Tom took the hint and led Gaeta out of the tent.

"How do you know her?" Gaeta asked Tom after they'd left.

"She was one of my constituents," Tom explained. "And she's been submitting plans for the sewage system and the power grid within the city. I've had several meetings with her on the subject."

Gaeta stopped and nearly dropped the clothing. "No."

Tom stopped too, and turned, his face a study of puzzlement. "No, what?"

Gaeta shook his head. "This would be a bribe."

Tom sighed. "Felix, no. It's not. Celia will probably get the contract, yes, but it will be fair, I assure you. However, politics is about people, or at least it should be," Zarek said. The fire began to burn in his blood, slow embers that could ignite at any moment. "You don't spend your days meeting with someone and not find out certain facts about them." He began to walk again, and Gaeta was forced to follow. "We have to re-evaluate what government means in our context. What government can't be is a dictatorship, dominating every aspect of people's lives. People need their government to listen, to understand their position. And since we have such a small number of people, all of whom have been through a trauma so extreme that the mind can only begin to fathom it, it becomes even more crucial that the government serves as a facilitator, not a ruler."

"But-"

"Listen. When we were back there, in that tent, you understood what she was saying. You took the clothing for a reason- I saw it on your face. Just because she's a civil engineer who is looking for a job does not mean she is not also a grieving mother, looking for some closure."

"And just because you're a concerned ear and benevolent facilitator doesn't mean you're not looking to see if you can get a lower bid out of her because she's mixing personal feelings with business."

Tom shrugged, amused. "Can't help it if she does," he said lightly, "but just because a transaction happens to serve a purpose doesn't make it immoral. Besides, you do need some new clothes, and she needed the ceremony of it."

Gaeta sighed. "I know," he said. "That's why I said yes."

Tom grinned.

***

The _Prometheus_ landing was the first thing on his agenda that morning, and Felix had found himself up early as the light filtered in through the seams of his tent. He was standing in the barren, muddy field when the accompanying Raptor landed and waved excitedly.

Cally was the first one off the Raptor. She looked around, her face lighting up in the sunshine. "So this is it?" she asked.

"Don't block the doorway," Skulls demanded from the inside. "Come on, Cally. Move it."

"This is it," Felix said. He handed Cally, and then Racetrack and Dee as they came off, bunches of weeds that almost resembled flowers. His eyes widened when he saw Dee in her new uniform. "Congratulations, Lieutenant, and welcome to New Caprica," he said, grinning as if he owned the place.

"What, I don't get flowers?" Chief said as he jumped out. "Gaeta, you wound me!"

They all laughed, and for a brief moment the breeze felt warm. Felix looked at Racetrack. "Everything still on track?"

"As far as I know," Racetrack said. She was taking off her helmet and shaking out her hair. "_Prometheus_ should be landing in a twenty minutes. So this is really it, huh? Doesn't look like much."

Skulls nudged her. "Hey. Don't insult our planet that way," he laughed. He wandered over and gave Felix a one-armed hug that lingered.

Felix grinned ruefully. "I know it's not the land of milk and honey," he said, winking at Dee, "but it isn't that bad. And once we break ground and get some of the facilities built, it will be much more habitable."

The comm unit beeped in the Raptor, and Skulls jumped back in to take the call. Chief rubbed his hands together. "Well, let's get the work done so we can get to the good parts."

The day was taken up with organizing people, shipments, unloadings, and dismantlings. Felix felt like he didn't stop, and only caught glimpses of the people from _Galactica_ that had come down on the Raptor. But finally, when the sun began to set, he was able to catch Dee by the arm.

"Want to grab dinner?" he asked her.

"Sure." Dee's uniform was wrinkled and her hair had escaped its severe bindings, but Felix noticed she'd stuck the little nosegay of weeds (because really, they weren't anything else) in her belt. "How's the food down here?"

"Less inedible as anything on _Galactica_," Felix admitted cheerfully. They walked companionably through the row of tents, and he pointed out to her how the city was going to shape; where the water reclamation plant would be, the schoolhouse, the hospital, the marketplace. As they walked by Colonial One, they saw Tom Zarek coming out and heading down towards the town.

"Mr. Gaeta," Zarek greeted him. "Everything go all right today?"

"Everything went smoothly, sir," Felix said, pulling himself up. "Oh, Mr. Vice President, this is Lieutenant Dualla-"

"We've met," Dee said curtly.

Belatedly, Felix remembered that Dee had been on the Astral Queen that day. "Oh. Right. Erm…"

Zarek smiled. "It's lovely to see you again, Lieutenant," he said smoothly. "Forgive me for not staying to talk longer, but I'm late for a meeting. Mr. Gaeta, the President wants you to be at a meeting at 0600 tomorrow morning regarding the trade policy."

"I'll be there, sir." They watched him walk off. Beside him, Dee's face was stony.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I forgot-"

"You're working with Tom Zarek," Dee stated flatly.

"Well, yes. He is the Vice President. And before you start," he said, rightly recognizing the signs of war on her face, "I didn't pick him, the government goes a lot more smoothly if I work well with him, and just like with the President, we don't agree. So let's just drop it, okay?"

"But the man is a terrorist. The lives he took just to make a statement-"

"I said let's not go there."

"Fine." Dee pulled herself together, but there was a chill between them. "We should find the others for dinner," Dee said, leading him off like it was her city, not his.

That hadn't been their plan, but he followed her anyway. He didn't really relish the idea of avoiding the topic at dinner, especially when a nagging voice was telling him that he wasn't sure he agreed with Dee about Zarek at all.

***

They ate under the stars, huddled into warm flight suits and coats. "It's nice to see the sky for a change," Cally commented. "It's amazing how much beautiful stars are from the planet instead of from a ship window."

"Gotta admit, it was good to see the sun today," Chief said. "Hey, Gaeta. What is this that we're eating? It's not half bad."

"Well, when it's alive it looks like a cross between a squirrel and a rabbit." Felix noticed that Dee didn't look up when he spoke, she just continued focusing on her plate. "It's amazing what you'll try when you've been eating shipboard rations and protein bars for nine months."

"Any luck on finding fruit?" Skulls asked around a full mouth.

"None," Felix sighed wistfully. "At least, nothing safe to eat. But I think it's still winter; maybe come spring…" he trailed off, trying to remember the last time he'd had fruit. "One of the top priorities is trying to get some growing technologies going; hydroponics, greenhouses, the like. Then maybe we can genetically engineer some of the plants that are around into something more suitable for human consumption."

"From what I've heard today, there are a lot of top priorities," Racetrack said, leaning her elbows on the table.

"Well, what do you expect?" Dee said lightly. "Given who's in charge."

Chief snorted appreciatively, and Felix sighed. Dee continued to eat with a studied grace, ignoring his gaze. Felix turned to Chief. "Are a lot of your crew coming down to settle?"

Chief ran a hand through his hair. "There's a lot that want to," he admitted. "But there's a lot that needs to get done on _Galactica_, first, and most of them aren't essential for early settlement."

"Do you have any specialists with construction backgrounds?" Felix began, but Cally groaned.

"Can you two last for five minutes without discussing work? Please? It might be nice just to enjoy a night planetside before we have to head back up to _Galactica_." The look she gave Chief was so pleading and so… Felix smirked. He hadn't seen that one coming. Next to him, Skulls laughed and touched his knee under the table. Amusement shifted rapidly to something else, and Felix swallowed hard.

"I'll give you the list tomorrow," Chief said, and casually draped his arm around the back of Cally's chair. "You gonna be around when we take off?" Although Dee was talking to Racetrack, something about the set of her shoulders told Felix she heard the question and was interested in the answer.

"I should be," Felix said. "Hey, listen. I need to go, but do you guys need me to show you where you're staying for the night?"

Chief shook his head. "Nah, we're set. Thanks, Gaeta."

Felix stood up and took his plate up to the dishwashing station, running it through the water. He'd just set it in the pile of clean ones when he became aware of Skulls standing behind him.

"Hey," he said, turning and smiling.

Skulls smiled back. "I missed it. Where are we staying, again?"

"'We' being the people from the Raptor, or 'we' being you and me?" Felix asked, his smile turning into something more like a leer.

"You know exactly what I mean."

Felix cocked his head towards the door. "Come on. I'll show you."

They walked through the makeshift streets, a set distance between them and making awkward small talk as Felix nodded to people he'd met. But the minute they were in the tent the awkwardness was gone and they were on each other, tearing at each other's clothes and barely making it to the bed.

They lay together in the aftermath. Somehow, Skulls had found something to prop himself up against, and Felix lay with his back against Skulls's chest, playing with their hands, with Skull's legs draped loosely over his.

"Nice to actually have a whole night together for a change instead of just a half hour," Felix sighed. "Plan on sleeping much tonight?"

"Not if we don't have to," Skulls laughed. He rubbed his nose along the back of Felix's neck. "Are we crazy for keeping this just sex?"

Felix sighed heavily. "You over Robert?"

"Nope. You over Baltar?"

"Nope. I'd say we're not crazy for keeping this just sex," Felix said. He pressed their palms together, measuring the length of Skulls' fingers against his. "Besides, you're staying on _Galactica._"

"Yeah." Skulls sighed and shifted. "What was up with you and Dualla at dinner tonight?" he asked.

Felix shook his head. "Political differences."

"Man. Glad we don't talk politics." Skulls kissed his shoulder.

It was lightly phrased, but it said so much, and Felix knew that even if the dead Robert and the very much alive Gaius Baltar didn't exist, this would never work anyway.

***

Gaeta was five minutes early for the meeting, which didn't surprise Tom in the least. Gaius was late, which was not a surprise, either.

"Pretty girl, your friend," Tom commented as they sat at the table.

"Hmmm?" Gaeta looked abstracted, like his mind was far away. "Oh, Dee? She's not your biggest fan."

"So I remember," Tom said wryly. Gaeta raised his eyebrows meaningfully, but Tom ignored it. "Not my biggest fan is an understatement. Is she yours?"

Gaeta snorted. "After last night, hardly."

"Lover's quarrel?" Gaeta fixed him with a long, _are you stupid_ look, and Tom smirked to himself. He didn't think so- the body language hadn't pointed to it- but he wanted to add another facet to the picture he was forming. "All right, so not a lover's quarrel. Got shot down?"

Gaeta sighed. "Shouldn't we be talking about-" he looked at his agenda- "trade policy? Or finance? Or establishing some sort of monetary system?"

"Not without the President," Tom said gleefully. "So you did get shot down."

"Why is this of any interest to you?" Gaeta asked. "And no, for the record, Mr. Vice President _sir_, I did not get shot down. She is just a friend."

There was such an air of smugness about him that Tom couldn't help it. "You got laid last night, didn't you?"

He expected a well-deserved questioning of his age. What he got was a sly grin and a simple, "Yes, sir." And he couldn't help laughing.

"What's the joke?" Gaius asked, standing in the doorway. Tom exchanged glances with Gaeta, who gave a slight shake of his head. They both stood, but Gaius waved them down. "I could use a good laugh. I have the worst hangover," he complained, flopping down in his chair.

"Meeting with Franks go all right after I left?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Gaius sighed. "But the woman has an amazingly high tolerance for alcohol. It took another half a bottle to get her to divulge anything about the true state of supplies on the _Prometheus_, and several glasses beyond _that_ to be sure she was telling the truth." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Did you get anything interesting out of Gabaldon?"

"I got a promise of an inventory, although I suspect that it will be… incomplete," Tom sighed. "But more important, I got a promise of a six-month show of good faith before establishing any sort of black market dealings."

"Sir," Gaeta began cautiously, "are we trying to establish a capitalist market or following a collective model?"

"We decided that, Mr. Gaeta," Gaius said.

"No, sir, we didn't."

Tom jumped in smoothly. "I believe that the consensus was that we will work to evolve to a capitalist society, with minimal government interference, but in these early stages, a different strategy must be adopted. But regardless, black market dealings this early in the game would be detrimental to any plan." He kicked Gaius under the desk, and the President snapped back to life.

"I agree," Gaius said, leaning forward and making rapid notes on his pad. "How difficult will it be to enforce such a law, though?"

"Quite difficult without significantly controlling the people and restricting civil liberties," Tom pointed out. "And while we could perhaps offer Gabaldon and some of his cronies… incentives, shall we say, to obey the laws, it's not like black market dealings are a novel concept."

"No," Baltar sighed. "It begins as private trade between two people- two desperate people- and then escalates. I suppose the best way to curb anything like this is to make sure shortages don't develop."

"If you'd like, sir, I can work up a rationing system," Gaeta suggested. "Give people a certain number of credits to budget, give them some control over their own lives but still let them know that the resources are there."

Gaius nodded. "That sounds good. Thank you." Tom noticed that Gaeta smiled as he wrote down what would undoubtedly be a tedious and time consuming task.

They worked steadily for another hour, and by the time they were done the sun was up over the town. Gaius and Gaeta were happily debating some scientific point about a power system, and Tom shut them out for a moment and stared out the window.

After a month of being on this planet, it was beginning to sink in that this was home. He would live the rest of his life here, building a city and a civilization, getting it _right_ this time. He was beginning to realize that this wasn't just a reprieve from the Cylons, but a chance to correct old wrongs, a chance to not only change the world, but create it.

He tuned back into the conversation for a moment- something about membranes and ions and potentials. Gaeta looked flushed and excited, and Gaius even looked happy, especially as he began drawing a diagram on the back of his agenda. They saw it too, and what had begun as a plan simply to win an election was blossoming into a whole new dream. Tom couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this sort of… of hope.

And judging by the others, they could feel it too.

***

The Raptor was taking off at noon. Felix managed to get there as Racetrack and Skulls were going through the preflight check. Dee was helping Cally and Chief load some supplies to take back up to the _Galactica_.

"I don't care what these things look like," Chief told Gaeta as he approached, hoisting an insulated box. "Everyone's going to be happy to have fresh meat tonight."

Gaeta laughed. "You know they're rodents."

"They're edible," Chief corrected firmly. "Cally, can you get that one next?" he asked, pointing to a box. Felix grabbed Dee's arm.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey."

"Dee, don't go away angry at me."

Dee looked at the others, sighed, put down her box and stepped away. "I'm not," she admitted. "I'm just… worried."

"Well, don't be," Felix said. "Everything will be fine. And if it's not…" he shrugged. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know." Dee smiled. "So. Where did you disappear to last night?" She glanced back at the Raptor significantly. Felix flushed, and Dee raised her eyebrows. "How's he been taking you moving to New Caprica?"

"I keep telling you," Felix said, pulling her a little further away. "It's not serious."

"It's been going on for three months. That seems serious to me."

But he just shook his head, because her going on about his sex life was far preferable to yet another argument about his career. Fortunately, Chief saved him.

"Lieutenant! I need that box next!"

"Coming, Chief!" Dee shouted back. "Think about it," she said over her shoulder.

"Come on!" Racetrack shouted from the cockpit. "Let's move it, guys!"

In minutes, Felix was left in the fumes of tylium exhaust, waving at the Raptor until it disappeared from sight.

***

"So tell me," Tom said late that night when it was just him and Gaius at the desk, "what did you really get out of Captain Franks?"

"Pretty much exactly what I said," Gaius admitted, pouring them both a drink. "Well, and the fact that she would like input on trade policy. Well, what there can be of it amongst this lot."

"Is she qualified?"

"I think so, yes."

Tom turned the glass in his hand. The logical question, of course, was what were Doyle Franks' qualifications, and if they were something that were described on a resume or in a crate of liquor and cigars. She might have the former, but given the quality of the whiskey Gaius had poured, she had the latter, as well.

"I see," Tom said.

"What?" Gaius sat up straight. "I'll have you know that she's been regulating trade policy in a very delicate situations for over ten years. Additionally, she has a very strict view on enforcing her policies and won't tolerate any deviation."

Tom exhaled slowly. "I wasn't questioning it," he said finally.

Gaius snorted. "You sound like Gaeta." But his smile softened at that statement. "Believe me, Tom. I wouldn't give that sort of influence to someone I didn't believe was qualified."

He looked so sincere, so distraught that Tom found himself smiling. "I believe you." He didn't, but he could keep an eye on her. He knocked back the rest of his drink. "Shall we leave the rest of the running of the world for tomorrow?" he asked, suddenly tired.

"Feel free," Gaius said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Tom stopped by his office, dropped off his papers and shouldered his coat. As he left the ship, he noticed that the light was still on in Gaeta's office. He shook his head and headed out into the streets.

The air was cold, with a stiff wind that penetrated the leather of his jacket and made him shiver. The canvas of the tents wouldn't be keeping much cold out, but here and there he saw the glows of camp fires and small power cells. The low hum of conversation was punctuated with metal clinking and footsteps, and sharper sounds as people hailed others. As he passed one tent he heard a mother singing a lullabye, and another he heard a man and a woman laughing a low, intimate laugh.

His own tent seemed silent when he pushed aside the flaps and entered. Tom heated up a cup of hot water and made what passed for tea, and pulled out a book. He'd read it seven times already since the attack on the Colonies, but reading material was hard to come by. Normally, he didn't have a hard time getting sucked in, but tonight, his mind just refused to focus. He sighed and put the book down, lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

For all the life and crowds around him, the tent really was very quiet.

Funny how he'd never really noticed that before.  



	2. Chapter 2

The rain pounded on the settlement, cold and steady and draining the life out of people. Felix looked out the tiny window, wondering if he had enough food squirreled away in his office that he could avoid going home tonight. The puddles were rapidly spreading, and he didn't really relish huddling under worn blankets under canvas in the rain.

He heard footsteps and stood up, coming face to face with President Baltar. "Good evening, sir."

Baltar smiled. "Mr. Gaeta," he said. "Haven't you gone home yet?"

Felix shrugged. "There was still some work to do," he began. "And I-"

Baltar sighed heavily. "There's _always_ work to do," he pointed out, and then looked at Felix more critically. "Have you eaten? You're looking thinner than you did on _Galactica_." He wasn't- at least, he didn't think so- but he shrugged again anyway. "I have an idea," Baltar said, hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you join me for dinner?"

_It's a cold night outside and I'm working for him. It means nothing._ Felix repeated the mantra twice in his head before he smiled. "Thank you, Mr. President."

"Not at all." Baltar opened the door to his own office and gestured for Felix to go inside. "But I wonder, Mr. Gaeta… we've been working together for so long, and I'd like to think we've gotten to be friends as well."

"I think so, too, sir," Felix said evenly.

"When it's just the two of us, I think that 'Mr. President' or 'President Baltar' is a little too formal, don't you?"

Felix hesitated. "Would you prefer I call you Dr. Baltar?" he asked.

Baltar huffed. "Felix," he began, and the simple sound of his own name shot highly embarrassing lightning bolts through him, "I'm sure that you're perfectly aware that my given name is 'Gaius.' And don't you even think of saying, 'yes, sir'," he said, holding up a finger. Caught, Felix bit his tongue and grinned sheepishly. Balt- Gaius poured them both a glass of wine and gestured for Felix to sit down across from him. "All this ceremony… it's very isolating and it does nothing but build up false barricades," he complained.

"I suppose it has a purpose," Felix said.

"An archaic one, I think. Especially in this case." Gaius took a sip of the wine. "I trust that you are intelligent enough to know when to use which salutation." He stood back up and retrieved a tray. "I'm afraid there's not much worth cooking on this planet," he said ruefully, setting the tray between them, "but it should be acceptable."

Felix's eyes widened. It wasn't the knowledge that Gaius could cook- he firmly believed any scientist who said they couldn't shouldn't be trusted in the lab- but the fact that there were two distinct portions in front of them, carefully arranged. This had been planned. He swallowed hard, fingers trembling slightly with nerves as he reached for the silverware.

They ate together companionably, skipping from topic to topic. Felix noticed that Gaius was steering them away from anything professional, and after a while, he relaxed into it.

"So, being a young and _very_ eager to impress," Gaius was saying, "I stayed late to run some tests. I'm not sure what possessed me to put the filter into the carbon analyzer, but I can promise you that the explosion, while small, was absolutely spectacular. I could see the flame front coming at me, textbook perfect." Felix laughed, and Gaius leaned in, his face very animated. "Instinct told me to hit the floor, just in time. The sample boat shot across the room and shattered, and the quartz tube cracked."

"I'm afraid to ask what your professor said," Felix said, sipping his wine.

"I honestly thought I might be kicked out. I really did." Gaius gestured expansively. "But fortunately, my own advisor took up the crusade, especially given my aptitude for the subject, and really, the story ends in a very dull manner."

They were both laughing, and Gaius filled Felix's glass again. His hand brushed against Felix's fingers, and for a moment Felix tried to convince himself it meant nothing. But then Gaius's finger traced his again, lightly enough to just graze the skin, and slowly enough to be deliberate.

"Are you familiar," Gaius began, "with the work of Dr. Drakes Finley?"

"Uh, no, sir," Felix said, eyes fixed on their hands. "Is it related to combustion phenomena?"

Gaius put down the wine, but his other hand continued to trace over Felix's fingers. "Only in the figurative sense. He did studies on human sexuality."

"Really? That's… ah, well, that's…" he bit his lip, because the last thing he needed to do was babble.

"He discovered," Gaius said, shifting so they were closer together and taking a firmer hold on Felix's hand, "that human sexuality is a range. That most people have some element of bisexuality, if they choose to listen to it." His other hand came to rest of Felix's knee, and Felix closed his eyes, because this was only going to come to one logical conclusion, and he couldn't quite believe it was happening. "Normally," Gaius was whispering, "I prefer women. But on rare occasions, an exceptional man will make me sit up and take interest."

There had to be some comment- some answer- to that, but Felix didn't need one, because Gaius's lips closed on his. He couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing through his veins, over the way his heart pounded and the breath fled from his lungs. He gave over eagerly, because this was what he'd wanted for Gods only knew how long, and for once… for once Felix Gaeta was finally going to get what he wanted.

***

They lay together in Gaius's bed afterwards, listening to the rain. "Are you all right?" Gaius asked him.

"Hmm? Oh, sure." Felix smiled at him. "This isn't new to me."

"Good. But you are miles away. You're not thinking about the economy or what you need to do for the groundbreaking ceremony next week, are you?" Gaius asked suspiciously.

Felix chuckled, tucking his hands under his head. "No, I'm thinking appropriate thoughts."

"And here I was hoping you were thinking inappropriate thoughts."

"Those too."

Gaius propped himself up on one elbow. "Felix, just so we're clear, you do know that this is just a bit of fun, right?"

"Of course." And he meant it, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't hoping it could turn to something more.

"Good." Gaius patted his arm, which turned into a caress, which turned into a night Felix was positive he'd remember forever.

***

The rain was still coming down the next morning, bitter and cold, and by the time Tom made it to Colonial One he was soaked. It was early, dark, and gloomy… and someone had the audacity to be singing.

Whoever it was needed to die. Preferably a slow and painful death.

It wasn't loud singing- just someone half-humming under their breath. When he went to get his coffee, he found Gaeta sitting at a nearby table, reading a document, dry, and obviously completely unaware that he was about to be airlocked. Well, he would be if they were in space.

"That's it," Tom groaned, fumbling for a mug. "Go back to _Galactica._ I can't take this anymore."

Gaeta handed him a cup of coffee, already prepped. "Good morning, sir."

Well, that went a long way towards being forgivable. Tom took a long sip and sat down across from him. "What kept you here overnight?" he asked. "Plans for Founder's Day?"

"Truthfully, sir, the weather was so bad I just didn't want to leave." Gaeta grinned. "Rain on the roof of my office is a lot nicer sound than rain on a canvas tent. I just hope home isn't leaking too badly."

So he said, but Tom noticed that Gaeta's clothes weren't wrinkled, his hair was orderly, and he didn't have dark circles under his eyes from cramming himself somewhere uncomfortable. But he held back on commenting and focused his attention on the coffee.

"Gentlemen." Baltar walked in. Both Tom and Gaeta got to their feet.

"Morning," Tom groused.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

Baltar paused and beamed at them, like they'd accomplished some task just by being here. "Good morning, Mr. Gaeta. Tom, please tell me you've already had a cup of coffee." He accepted the cup that Gaeta handed him and sat down.

"My floor is mud," Tom informed them. "And I'm on higher ground. If mine is, a lot of other people are going to be flooded out. We really need to address the drainage issues."

"Dig some ditches," was Baltar's solution. "It's really not that difficult. Mr. Gaeta, organize it."

"Yes sir." Gaeta looked at his agenda. "Mr. President, if things are as bad as the Vice President says, I should get started right away. Would you mind if I-"

"No, no. I suspect this will take you all day." Baltar waved a hand. "Go."

"Yes, sir."

"He has way too much energy in the morning," Tom groaned as Gaeta left. "Did you finalize the itinerary for Founder's Day?"

"No, I was busy last night. Important meeting."

Tom sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Doyle Franks or Anna Fried?"

"Neither," Gaius said, with a particularly smug grin.

It was probably best to give up trying to keep track. Tom changed the subject. "We're starting to see some issues with crime. Most of what we've seen so far has been of the non-violent variety: theft, black market dealings…" Tom rubbed his nose significantly. "However, it's only a matter of time before we're dealing with more substantial problems."

"How are we dealing with it at the present?" Gaius asked, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window at the rain.

"Labor, mostly. Assigning offenders the more odious tasks. Actually, I'm assuming they will form a large part of Gaeta's crew today. But we need a more permanent facility for offenders that must be kept away from society."

"The Astral Queen." Gaius said it flippantly as he put his feet up on his desk.

"No." Tom said firmly. "Gutting the Astral Queen for the materials is one thing. But that ship was serving as a prison to over five hundred citizens who are trying to integrate back into society, who are looking for a fair chance. Making the Astral Queen a detention facility again restores their status as convicts in the eyes of their fellow citizens."

"Then how do you suggest I maintain order, Mr. Zarek?" Baltar asked coldly. "People don't just fall into line."

"Gaius, I'm not arguing with you about the need for some sort of facility. But not the Astral Queen."

"Well, I am the President and what I say goes."

"But I-"

"Mr. Zarek, we _will_ be using the Astral Queen to house convicts. Next on the agenda."

***

The rain wasn't letting up. Tom pulled on his jacket and then took it off, resigning himself to being wet and cold either way. No point in destroying the leather any further.

The mud was slippery beneath his feet, and his shoes were soaked through in seconds. He followed one of the newly dug trenches- rivers of water gushing through it- until he found the work crew. Gaeta was talking to a big, burly man, shovel in his hands and mud smeared up his pants. Tom waited until they were finished and Gaeta moved away, his face stormy.

"How's it going?" he shouted over the rain.

"Not so well," Gaeta shouted back. "I don't know how effective this is, and the workers aren't exactly thrilled. I-"

"Zarek!" One of the men came striding up and Tom recognized him immediately. Ernie Tamlin, prisoner 110974, convicted of two robberies and up for parole when the Colonies were destroyed. "Zarek! Tell your little pussy boy here that we're done."

"Mr. Tamlin," Gaeta said firmly, "the President's orders are clear. If you don't fall in line, I will get security over here."

Tom noticed that others were watching. Worse, they looked far too interested. He wondered if Gaeta had a gun on him, because he sure as hell didn't.

"You gonna let him talk like that to me, Tom?" Tamlin demanded.

"He's the Chief of Staff to President Baltar," Tom said. "And you pulled this duty for-" he searched his memory- "lifting some jewelry out of a tent that didn't belong to you." Tamlin scowled, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief that he remembered right. "I'd say he's talking to you just fine."

"Well, I don't think so. And neither do they." Tamlin gestured to several other members of the crew, who were coming up towards them.

_Frak._ Tom crossed his arms. Next to him, he saw Gaeta straighten up into military posture.

"This is your last warning," Gaeta said. "Get back to work or I will get those ex-Marines over here."

Tamlin stepped right up into Gaeta's face. "Make me."

Gaeta sidestepped Tamlin. Another man caught his arm, and then one of the gang was charging at Tom. Tom punched him in the face, and the assailant slipped in the mud. Gaeta had freed himself and was shouting for security, but before he could get much out Tom saw the tell-tale flash of a steel knife. Tamlin charged at Gaeta, but Gaeta managed to grab his wrist and twist his arm upwards, yanking Tamlin's wrist until he cried out. It was a textbook maneuver, messily executed, but effective enough that the knife was dropped in the mud. Gaeta kicked Tamlin away, and Tamlin rolled in the mud. He didn't grab the knife, but he came up swinging a shovel.

Several shots were fired, and there were screams from people nearby. Tom whirled to see one of the ex-Marines that Gaeta had mentioned training his rifle on the group, and another with a smoking gun pointed in the air.

"Mr. Gaeta?" the one with the handgun asked.

"Just him, for now," Gaeta panted, pointing at Tamlin. There was blood flowing down his face and he wiped at it irritably. The marine nodded and led Tamlin away. Tom stepped up.

"All right. Anyone else want to argue, or shall we just get these trenches dug like the President ordered?" No one said a word. Tom picked up a shovel and began digging, silently willing Gaeta to do the same. Fortunately, Gaeta caught on quickly, and as the two of them began, the others returned to their work.

"Your nose is bleeding," Gaeta huffed quietly as they dug.

"So's your forehead." Tom's back was already beginning to protest, but a glance up revealed that the other men were working as well. The trench was progressing.

"I know there's a valid reason that we started digging," Gaeta muttered, "but right now thinking seems to be beyond me. Enlighten me?"

"They feel like they're being handed the shit jobs of the settlement because of who they are. The convicts," Tom stopped for a moment and rested on the handle of his shovel, "I suppose that's one thing. Forced labor is an time-honored method of punishment. But look at some of the others. They're here because they were told to be, and aren't getting any sort of extra compensation."

"Right. Got it," Gaeta sighed.

The sun had set by the time they returned to Colonial One, soaked to the skin and clothing stained with mud and blood. Tom had ripped a few blisters in his hands and Gaeta had a long cut up one arm. They were both freezing and exhausted and the experience had been pure misery, but for some reason Tom had the feeling that they were truant boys returning to school from playing in the mud.

"That could have gone better," Tom said as they retreated to the head.

Gaeta studied the wound on his forehead in the mirror. "We really- oh, frak." He winced as he touched it.

"Sit down," Tom ordered. Gaeta obeyed, and Tom wet a towel and began wiping at the blood. "You should really have a doctor look at this," he said.

"I've had tetanus shots recently," Gaeta began, "and-"

"Oh, my God."

Tom turned, and Gaeta struggled to his feet. "Mr. President," they both said.

"What happened?" Gaius asked, staring at them both with shock written all across his face.

"Sir," Gaeta sighed, "we _really_ need to get a labor union up and running."

Tom couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Gaius stared at him like the remark was in incredibly bad taste, but really… it was such a dry assessment of the day that he couldn't help it. "Sit down, Mr. Gaeta," Gaius ordered, and Tom got himself under control as Gaius came over and looked at the wound.

"It's fine, sir," Gaeta insisted.

"It doesn't require stitches," Gaius agreed. "But it is a head wound. I'd be more concerned about a concussion."

"I'm guessing he got it from a disgruntled worker swinging a shovel. He should see a doctor," Tom insisted.

"In this weather? I don't think it's that serious. Stay here tonight, Mr. Gaeta, and I'll check up on you."

Gaeta flushed. "Yes, sir."

Gaius turned back to Tom, who was a little shocked at the selflessness of the gesture. "And Mr. Zarek," he said, with the air of a bird swooping in on his startled prey, "I don't see any other choice but to use the Astral Queen to house prisoners until we can construct something more permanent, don't you agree?"

Tom sighed. "Guess I don't have a choice, do I, Mr. President?"

***

Tom was packing up to go home when Gaeta knocked on his door. He was wearing a dry shirt that didn't fit quite right, his wrists sticking out of the sleeves and barely buttoned across his chest. "Do you need anything before you go?" Geata asked.

"My ship back," Tom grumbled.

Gaeta raised his eyebrows. "It's not meant as a symbolic gesture. Most people won't even take it that way."

"Not consciously, perhaps." Tom flung a file to the desk. "But it will bring back up memories. The men on that ship served their time, Mr. Gaeta- they were going to parole hearings. They don't deserve to be viewed as convicts for the rest of their lives."

Gaeta huffed. "That's _not_ what the President is doing," he said. "It's a simple matter of resources. You can't argue that there needs to be consequences to breaking the law, and we some sort of detention facility. Better that we use something existing than have that be one of the first structures built. If we're thinking symbolically, what sort of message does _that_ send?"

It was a reasonable point, but Tom wasn't interested in being reasonable right now. "This isn't over," he muttered. Gaeta didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The kid had the reproachful, guilt-inducing, puppy-dog eyed stare down to a science. Tom sighed. "What?"

"Nothing, sir," Gaeta said, in a tone that clearly said _I do not agree with a word you're saying, but it's not my place to argue._ Tom rolled his eyes.

"Permission to speak freely," he spat back, mockingly.

"We can't afford a rift this early in the administration," Gaeta said. "Support for the President is essential."

"The President is wrong," Tom said flatly.

"It doesn't matter," Gaeta said with a shrug, "he's the President."

Tom stared at him for a long moment. "You don't agree with him, either."

"I don't disagree with him."

"But you see my point."

"Yes."

"So why are you backing down from Baltar?" Tom asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have any problems telling me what you really think, so I have to ask myself, why did you back down from pushing the issue with President Baltar?"

"Because he's the President," Gaeta explained, as if to a child.

"Loyalty and unity can only go so far. Tell me something, Mr. Gaeta. Is loyalty why you blew the whistle on your superior officer trying to fix the election?"

Gaeta jerked as if he'd been shot. Interesting. "Loyalty had nothing to do with it," Gaeta said stiffly. "It was a democratic election. It should stay that way."

"If you'd caught President Baltar trying to fix it-"

"He wouldn't have done that," Gaeta interrupted swiftly, and Tom raised his eyebrows. "But yes, I would have done the same thing."

There was something else here, some missing piece that Tom felt he should understand. But he wasn't going to ferret it out tonight, especially this exhausted. He shot Gaeta a dirty look and pushed by him. "Have a good night," he muttered as he left.

It was the first time he'd been relieved to leave Colonial One since settlement began.

***

The rain finally ended, and a week later Founders' Day was bright and warm, at least by New Caprica standards. And as far as Felix was concerned, it was the most perfect day that he'd had since before the Cylons attacked the Colonies. It was a blur of energy and light- the clicks of pieces of the city coming together, things to be done, friends and whatever he could call family, and applause and laughter and Gaius's smile. Felix had never so fully understood the expression _on top of the world_ before, but today, it was _him_.

The only dark spot was when the ceremony ended and Skulls approached him and pulled him away from the crowd. He started to kiss him and then stopped, looked at Felix, and a sad smile spread over his face.

"What's wrong?" Felix asked, even though he knew.

Skulls shook his head. "You don't even have to tell me," he laughed. "I'm not getting laid tonight, am I?"

He could. He and Gaius had made no promises- quite the opposite, actually- Gaius had been very explicit about _not_ making promises. And he hadn't been spending every night at Colonial One- there was no guarantee he'd be going back there tonight. He opened his mouth to explain, but Skulls cut him off. "It's all right, Felix. Really."

They'd never called each other by their first names, ostensibly because the idea of a Hamish and a Felix frakking would put anyone off sex, but really because it was just too intimate. But the use of it seemed right, right now, and Felix nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Skulls turned serious. "Listen, now that we're not frakking anymore, can I say something?"

"Can't stop you."

"Be careful, will you? I know you love him-"

"I never said-" Felix began.

Skulls grinned. "You never had to. Anyway, I know you love him, but it's not going to end well, and you really deserve better, okay?" Felix was going to argue when Skulls leaned down and kissed him one more time, with an unbearable tenderness that had never been evident before. He stood back, touched Felix's cheek, and headed back into the crowd, whistling.

Felix watched him go with the feeling of closing a book, and then turned and went back to the dance floor.

***

This planet seemed to only get colder, but it was easier to wake up with the watery sunlight filtering in through the windows of Colonial One, under thick covers and next to a warm lover. It was happening less and less since Founder's Day, but Felix still clung to each encounter, storing them away in his memory like treasures. Next to him, Gaius stirred.

"Good morning," Felix said.

"What's so bloody good about it?" Gaius scrubbed at his face with the palm of his hands, and Felix propped himself up on one elbow and grinned. Gaius paused, looked at him, and smiled back. "All right. There is that."

He smiled rakishly and pushed Felix back on to the bed. Felix was accustomed to quick half-hours with Skulls and the lack of privacy on _Galactica_. He had never quite realized that morning sex would be so… so inconvenient; rough with stubble, rank with morning breath, and wondering how long he could last before he had to leap out of bed and go take a piss. But he surrendered eagerly, because this was what he'd always wanted and more than he'd ever expected to get.

Things were just getting good when a sharp knock on the door stilled them both. "We can ignore it," Gaius began, dipping his head to kiss Felix again, but the intruder opened the door without an answer.

"Mr. President, it's well past- oh, excuse me, Miss…" Gaius hastily pulled out and rolled away and Felix's eyes widened as he was confronted with Zarek, who looked just as shocked as he felt. "Miss…ter Gaeata," he finished lamely. He shook himself and continued on. "I'm sorry to intrude, Mr. President, but we have a full schedule today and the Trade Minister has already arrived."

"Fine, fine." Gaius climbed out of bed, and Zarek averted his eyes as he began to pull on his clothing. Felix himself decided that the weave of the sheets was extremely fascinating and required very close study. "It's always something, isn't it?" Gaius was asking rhetorically, but neither Zarek nor Felix answered. "You'll be joining us, Mr. Gaeta?"

"Er, no, sir." The shift back to formality was jarring, but not unexpected. "I asked you about the morning off. A wedding-"

Zarek raised his eyebrows and Baltar snorted. "Oh, yes. Outdated tradition that it is. Right, we'll see you this afternoon then." He shrugged on his jacket, and Zarek held the door open, conspicuously not looking at Felix. He closed the door behind them, but it fell open a crack. Still tired and a bit sore, Felix began to ease himself out of the bed.

"You've got to be frakking kidding me," Zarak said, his voice muffled but perfectly clear.

"I knew you were Sagittaron," Gaius said. "I didn't take you for a fundamentalist."

"It has nothing to do with that," Zarek said. "Normally, I don't care who you frak, which is just as well since it's a full-time occupation keeping track of them all. But has it occurred to you that sleeping with your Chief of Staff might not be the best idea? That it will come crashing down on your head?"

"Oh, please," Gaius snorted. "You overestimate him." Felix froze, his sock halfway up his foot.

"I don't think so," Zarek said. "It's a bad idea, Gaius. What were you thinking?"

He heard that familiar shift into impatience, could see Gaius jerking into action. "What was I thinking? Do you know how much work there is in running a government, Tom? After meeting with the union representatives, organizing the transfer, approving the zoning regulations, and a host of other mind-numbingly boring activities, some night's it's just too much trouble to seek out some other willing companion for the evening, especially since there's one right here."

"Find a prostitute then," Zarek snapped. "No effort and less complication."

"This is easier and cheaper. Oh, frak. I _am_ late. Do you have the briefing on-" their voices drifted away.

Felix was quite certain he was going to be sick.

***

The words echoed through his head. _Easier and cheaper._ It wasn't just a lack of love that those words betrayed, it was a lack of _respect._ He could believe the first, but he couldn't believe the second. He ruthlessly pushed it out of his mind, because it wasn't the sort of thing you wanted to be thinking when your psychic best friend was getting married. He forced a smile onto his face and set out, mercifully encountering no one as he left Colonial One.

The wedding was being held by the river, with a scant canopy of black branches against a gray sky. Felix stepped carefully and quickly, trying to splash as little mud as possible onto his pants. A small knot of people were already standing on the bank, and he hurried to find Dee. She was waiting impatiently for him off to the side, wearing a party dress that looked out of place in the winter surroundings and clutching a big gauzy scarf that almost matched her dress. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Not really how I pictured this," Dee admitted, even though she was smiling.

Felix sighed. Three months before the attack, his best friend Ben had gotten married. There had been tiny lights and music and the heavy scent of flowers, and the Felix, Ben, and his bride had snuck away from the crowd for a moment for a toast of ambrosia, and then they'd whirled off in a cloud of music and laughter. That was what Dee deserved, too- the party and the revelry and the family and the happiness. But even if things went as well as they could, it would be years before another wedding like that. So he told himself not to be so melancholy and took the scarf from Dee.

"Is this right?" he asked, draping it over her head.

"I don't know," Dee said. "I've never gotten married before."

He tweaked the delicate fabric over her face, noticing that it was stained and brittle. "Borrowed?"

"No, I just happened to have it in my storage locker." She softened her sarcasm with a smile. "I think I'm ready."

"You look beautiful," he said, and he meant it.

They stood there for a moment, and then she moved first. The hug was awkward, and Felix told himself it was because they'd never been allowed this sort of intimacy in their years of friendship because of their ranks. He patted her shoulder gently, and then took her hand. "Well, let's go."

They walked down to the river bank together, and the people waiting turned to face them. Most of them were in dress blues or enlisted uniforms. In fact, Felix realized with a start, he, Dee, Kara, Sam, and Laura Roslin were the only ones who were not.

His hand twisted on the hem of his jacket.

Lee straightened as they approached, and Dee's hand tightened convulsively on his own. Felix squeezed back and smiled at her, and she winked at him under her makeshift veil. It amused him that a girl like Dee would choose such an outdated tradition, but as they paused before the priest and he removed the veil and put her hand in Lee's, he was glad she did. He stepped back beside her, across from Admiral Adama, who was serving as Lee's attendant. The Admiral flashed him a brief smile and then turned his attention forward, and Felix hastened to do the same.

The ceremony was short and a little stilted, but both Dee and Lee looked happy. And yet, the unreal feeling that was nagging at the corner of his mind persisted, like everyone was playing at parts. He wanted to put it down to his own life, but the realization of that struck him forcibly when Admiral Adama approached him and extended a hand.

"Mr. Gaeta," he said with a pleasant but formal smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Felix responded.

"Good to hear. It looks like you've been busy."

"Yes, we're working on getting a sanitation system in place and-"

"Shit is real nice talk for a wedding, Gaeta," Starbuck interrupted with a cocky grin, and Adama laughed. No, not just Adama. Anders and Roslin and Helo all heard, and it was their laughter that said it louder than anything- louder than his civilian suit or Dee's stilted hug or Adama's formal handshake….

Felix Gaeta was an outsider now.

***

Talking to Gaius was an utter mess. Tom had expected that, really, a mass of accusations of religion and muttered excuses and insistences that Gaeta knew exactly what he was doing, and there were no complications, and why should Tom care anyway?

It was a good question, and one he didn't have a great answer for, outside of wanting the government to actually work.

However, when the day ended, he found himself outside of Gaeta's office. Gaeta wasn't even pretending to work, but was staring out the window, chin resting on his folded hands.

"How was the wedding?" Tom asked.

"What? Oh, it was fine." Gaeta startled back and picked up a pen, staring down at his desk in order to avoid Tom's eye. "I hear that the union finally elected a president? Tyrol's a good guy, we should be able to work with him, but he is a tough negotiator."

"I didn't come here to hear about the new union president. We need to talk."

Gaeta looked up at him, his eyes dark and hard. "No, we don't."

Tom sighed. "I only need to know one thing. When this all comes crashing down about your head, can you still do your job?"

Felix smiled. It was a grim, bitter smile, and Tom surmised that he'd heard Gaius's words that morning. But all he said was, "Yes. I can."

There was something in the simple dignity that was holding Gaeta's shoulders straight and his hands steady that made Tom extend a hand. "Come on," he said. "I'll buy you a drink."

***

"So you definitely weren't frakking Dee, were you?" Tom asked when they were seated.

"Not unless I wanted to answer to Admiral Adama as to why his son's girlfriend was cheating on him," Gaeta answered. Tom didn't say anything, and Gaeta sighed. "And yeah, not that I really wanted to anyway. Happy now?"

"Answers a few questions, at any rate." Tom sipped his drink. "I guess I should apologize for walking in on you this morning."

"Thanks." Gaeta raised his glass and turned it, watching the light play off the dirty rim. "Not really the most dignified way to have you find out, but I guess it could be worse."

"I've seen worse," Tom admitted. "Twenty years in prison and a forced labor camp where women are pretty scarce makes it pretty hard to shock me."

Gaeta considered this. "Have you ever…?" he began, not looking directly at Tom.

"No," Tom said. "But you know that's not why I was concerned."

"I know."

"Look, we're in this far and I'm pretty sure I know the answer, so I'm going to ask. Did you hear us outside the door this morning?"

Gaeta cringed. "Yeah. I did."

"Thought so. At least that gives me faith that you were telling the truth that you'll continue to do your job."

The gaze Gaeta fixed him with was direct and dark. "I will. I am serving the President of the Colonies, and I will continue to do so."

A shiver raced down Tom's spine at that. "You're sure?"

"Mr. Vice President-"

"Felix, I've seen you naked. I think you can call me Tom on occasion."

Gaeta snorted a small laugh and regrouped. "I've had to follow orders in… difficult situations before. Besides, this isn't about me, or Gaius. This," he spread his hands to indicate his job and New Caprica, "is about a lot more."

"I agree," Tom said. "I think a lot of people are still holding out hope that we can go home and start all over again, and everything will be as it was. But once something is destroyed…" he shrugged. "It's not even picking up the pieces- it's entirely redefining life as we know it. And that's something that is very difficult for people to do."

Gaeta held up his glass. "I'll drink to that."

***

_Cheaper and easier. Cheaper and easier._ He'd heard the words himself, but he still couldn't believe them. They played over and over in his head until they lost all meaning and became a collection of sounds.

Felix went back to Colonial One that night, slightly tipsy and very aware that there were several matters that required his attention before tomorrow morning. But when he entered, he was met by a grinning Gaius holding out another drink.

"I was wondering if you'd come back tonight," Gaius said. "I thought I'd lost you to the dirt roads of our fair city."

He should push past, go to his office and work. But the smile and Gaius's hand on his arm were all it took, and he was helpless to resist.

"No," he said. "I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mr. Vice President. Zarek! Wait up!"

Tom turned around to see Marshall Bagot running towards him. "Marshall! What can I do for you this morning?" he asked.

"The Quorum needs an answer on the rationing system today. I've been trying to see President Baltar, but he's not returning any calls or messages. It's urgent- the people need food."

"Did you talk to Gaeta?"

Marshall sighed and made a face. "I did, but I got the run-around. He told me the President hadn't decided yet and he couldn't do anything. He's useless."

"His hands are tied," Tom corrected automatically. "However, I have a half-hour right now. Why don't you and I go up to my office and discuss the issue?"

Marshall breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Vice President," he said formally.

***

"Look," Tom said, "all you have to do is sign the damn thing."

Gaius looked up at him with bored impatience. "But the plan you have laid out here won't work."

"It will short-term, provided we get the hydroponics facilities up and running as quickly as possible," Tom insisted. "We just need a short term solution."

There was a knock on the door. "What?" Gaius demanded.

Gaeta entered, holding a file. "Mr. President, sir, I've just returned from meeting with the union."

Tom perked up. "Are they ready to begin construction on the hydroponics facilities?"

"There's a problem."

"There's always a problem," Gaius groaned.

"Yes, well, this one might be easily solvable if we can get a survey team out quickly. They need to find a supply of sulfates, gypsum if possible."

"Sulfates? Construction is being held up because of _sulfates_?" Gaius snorted disbelief. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard."

"Sir, the settlement isn't built near certain mineral deposits, and-"

"Gypsum, Mr. Gaeta, is one of the most common and easily accessible minerals in the Twelve Colonies."

"But we aren't _on_ the Twelve Colonies, Mr. President!" Gaeta flared. Gaius fixed him with an even glare, and Gaeta shrank back down. "What I'm saying, sir," he said more quietly and respectfully, "is that we don't have access to even simple compounds like gypsum because we have not begun the mining operations for them. What we need to do is take a Raptor equipped with a-"

"Oh, don't bother me with it!" Gaius snapped. "I'm President, for God's sake! I am not the overseer of these insignificant operations! Go deal with the Ministers and the Quorum!"

Gaeta and Tom exchanged glances. Tom tried one more time. "But Gaius-"

"Mr. Zarek, this had better be worthy of my time."

"The use of the equipment requires Presidential authorization. That's how you set it up-"

"Then write up the proposal and hand me the finished document. Don't bother me with the details."

Tom sighed. "Yes, sir." Gaeta echoed him, and they both beat a hasty retreat.

"Well, that could have gone better," Tom groused. He inclined his head and Gaeta sat down at a conference table, spreading out the plans he was carrying with him. "What exactly is the union saying?" he asked.

"Basically, the issue is the lack of materials," Gaeta explained. "The plans for the hydroponics facilities call for concrete, which is all very well and good, but making the stuff is more difficult. The _Outlander_ had a supply of gypsum, but we used that up when we were building the water reclamation plant."

"So what you're telling me is that we're juggling the demands of the union, who want work for all their members, with compensation, which really comes in the form of food, with the hydroponics facilities, without which growing food is difficult and takes away our best means of compensation."

Gaeta processed that and nodded. "Pretty much."

Tom sat back, ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "Felix, let's face it. You and I are running the world." He sighed and picked up a pen. "All right. Let's figure this out."

***

"Gaeta," Tyrol shouted, striding up to Felix. "Did you get an answer from the President?"

"The President is going to look over the proposal. It's looking positive and-"

"Damn it, Gaeta, yes or no?"

Felix sighed. "No."

"No, he's not going to let us get the gypsum, or no, you didn't get an answer?" Tryol asked suspiciously.

"No, I didn't get an answer."

"What the- Gaeta, I've got over a hundred guys who are looking for work. By the system you guys set up, if they don't work, they don't eat!" Tyrol clenched his fists in frustration. "What do you expect them to do?"

"I didn't get an answer," Felix said evenly, "but I'm sending out a team on a Raptor to survey for gypsum deposits. They should go tomorrow, so get a mining crew ready. I _will_ get the President to listen to me, but let's get everything in place so we can move the second he approves it."

Tyrol grinned and clapped his arm. "Got it. Thanks, Gaeta- I knew we could count on you." He walked off, whistling.

***

"You're miles away tonight," Gaius said when they lay in bed late that night. "Here we are, the first time in two weeks, and I can tell you're thinking about mining regulations or union guidelines or some other tedious subject."

"Hmm?" Felix turned his head, and then rubbed his eyes. "No. I'm fine."

"I know you're fine." Gaius ran a hand down his bare chest. "You're always fine when your mind is on work. But you're not _here_." His touch was more possessive, and he mouthed Felix's throat. Felix tipped his head back, closing his eyes as shivers traveled over his skin. For a moment he thought Gaius would actually continue downward for once, but instead he paused and nudged Felix's shoulder, urging him to turn over. He did, because hey, it wasn't like he didn't enjoy this, but for once he wasn't quite in the mood, and he found himself going through the motions rather mechanically.

He lay awake long after they were done and Gaius had fallen asleep, hands folded on his chest and staring at the ceiling.

***

"You're doing what?" Gaeta asked, mouth open in shock. The morning had come too early, and the gray reality was settling around him again.

"I'm taking the Raptor and going up to the remaining Fleet," Gaius said. "The crew is departing in," he glanced at the clock above them, "fifteen minutes. I will be back later today, and I expect a full report on the meeting with the union on my desk by then." He turned to Tom. "And I expect you to have the new rationing regulations passed by the Quorum by then."

Felix gaped at him. "But you didn't… you never told us…."

Gaius glared at him. "Do you two think I don't know what you're up to?" he demanded. "I know you were planning on going behind my back with that bastard of a union president to set up mining operations that are not critical at this time."

"They're very critical," Gaeta tried to argue. "Mr. President, if I can just go over the figures with you-"

"I'm late," Gaius snapped. He looked at Tom. "And you would both do well to remember your places in this administration." He swept out of the room.

Tom shook his head. "Well, do we have another Raptor?" he asked.

"Not at our disposal. The Admiral only gave us a few."

"Well, what do we do?" Tom prompted.

Gaeta sat down helplessly. "What can we do? It's going to be a long day of breaking promises and trying to placate people who don't want to be placated."

"Or coming up with another way around Baltar," Tom said.

Gaeta shook his head. "No. He _is_ the President."

Tom glanced out the door; none of the other staff were there. He came over to the table and leaned in, right into Gaeta's face. "You told me that if this all came crashing down around you that you would still do your job," he said.

Gaeta looked up, confused. "I _am_ doing my job, Mr. Vice President."

"No, you're not. You're not acting like a Chief of Staff, you're acting like a yes-man. And not because you don't have the guts to stand up to the President, but because you don't have the guts to stand up to your lover."

Gaeta's eyes flashed. "You're out of line."

"Am I? You know as well as I do that the construction of these facilities is absolutely critical. You should be fighting the President with everything you've got, because your duty isn't just to the President, it's to the people. And you're not doing it because you're afraid he'll kick you out of bed."

"I'm not doing it," Gaeta said, standing up and drawing himself to full height, "because you do not contradict your superior officer. The President _will_ see reason, but disobeying his orders will not convince him."

"It will once the mining operations are established."

"And he'll never trust either of us again."

"Gods damn it, Gaeta!" Zarek swore. "Don't you get it? Baltar is never going to be effective! The glory days of Baltar's presidency are over already, and it's up to the rest of us to get this civilization going. And he's only one man, Gaeta. We can make this work, but you've got to be willing to do it."

"We can make it work with him," Gaeta insisted.

Tom closed his eyes. "No," he said, and as he said it he felt like a steel door was clanging shut in his soul, "we can't."

***

The bar tent was crowded. In some ways, Tom supposed that was good, but the truth was the number of people who obviously felt the need to get drunk as soon as the workday ended said more than any poll possibly could. He sat in the corner, smoking and watching the crowd, waiting.

"Is this seat taken?"

To his surprise, Tom saw Laura Roslin standing by his table, drink in hand. He stood up and pulled out a seat for her. "No, please. By all means, have a seat."

She did so, crossing her legs gracefully. "You looked far away," she observed. "Everything all right?"

"Hmm? Of course. Just… trying to sort out a staffing issue."

Laura raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. "The joys of teaching. My assistants are capable of their jobs."

He chuckled. "Lucky you." Then he sighed and sipped his own drink. "However, competence isn't my issue."

"I see." Laura chuckled. "I don't think I'll ask you any more. I'm not sure I want to know."

"Probably wise."

"I'm so glad you're someone else's problem," she said. "Life is much easier when you're worrying about the history of the Colonies rather than the future of humanity." But there was something hard and bitter in her eyes, and Tom knew that although she was gracefully accepting defeat publicly, she hadn't surrendered. Not at all.

"I'm sure," Tom said noncommittally. "So what are you here to really talk to me about?"

Laura smiled. "School supplies, of all things," she said matter-of-factly. "As in, we don't have any."

Tom shook his head. "Low on the list, Laura. Believe me. There's not much I can do there."

"I'm aware of that, Tom. But I want get the issue in your mind now, so when it does become a truly desperate situation, I'm closer to the top of the list."

"All right then." Tom spotted the person he was waiting for. Regretfully, he stood up. "If you'll excuse me," he began.

"Duty calls?"

Tom smiled. "Something like that." He patted her shoulder and moseyed on over to a tall, thin blonde woman that had just entered the tent. "Polly, if I could speak to you in private… I have a proposition for you."

***

Tom and Polly were waiting when Gaius came back from the Fleet. "What's this?" Gaius asked. Polly glanced at Tom, he nodded imperceptibly, and then he smiled at Gaius.

"You've been working too hard," he said. "We all have. I thought you could use some… release."

Gaius eyed Polly with interest. "Is that so?"

Tom stood up and smiled. "Consider this my apology, Mr. President. I'll leave you two in peace." He exited, and he strongly suspected it would only be a matter of minutes before things got going. Polly was a fast worker.

He waited a few minutes, then took a deep breath, and knocked on a door.

"Mr. Gaeta? The President says he needs to see you right now."

***

"Gaeta?" Tyrol had to run to catch up with him. "Hey, Gaeta- what the frak is going on? When are my guys going to get the gypsum?"

Felix whirled. "Tomorrow morning. You, Cally, and a mining specialist meet me at the airfield. Is there an ECO on the ground?"

"Yeah, Hex has ECO training."

"Get him there, too. 0500 hours."

"Gaeta-"

Felix glared at him. "Just frakking do it."

***

The sun wasn't up and the wind was cold, and Tom wondered what the hell he was doing here. He made his way to the shipyard, coming across the Tyrols, both whom looked just as tired and cranky. "This is insanity," Tyrol muttered.

"At least we're going to get the gypsum," Cally said hopefully.

The lights of the Raptor were already on, and when the three of them climbed on they found Cavett checking his equipment, and Hex and Gaeta going through the preflight check, Gaeta in the pilot's seat. Tyrol came up short.

"Whoa, whoa, Gaeta… what the hell are you doing?"

"Flying a Raptor. Thrusters?"

"Check."

"There's a thermos of coffee in the back, just make sure the Vice President gets a cup with creamer or he's completely unbearable. I've got my wings, so shut up and get on."

Tom obeyed, but Tyrol hesitated. "You might have your wings, but you haven't flown since before the Colonies were attacked."

"Like riding a bicycle. Sensors?"

"Check."

Cally sat down and buckled in cautiously. "I've never seen you fly," she began, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "What's your call sign?"

"Pinball." Gaeta flipped a few switches.

"Look, Gaeta, we could go get Starbuck-"

Gaeta whirled, and Tom saw the anger on the younger man's face. "Tyrol, sit your frakking ass down NOW and shut up so we can get this mission underway, all right?"

Tyrol held up his hands. "All right, all right. Geeze," he said, softly enough that only Tom and Cally could hear him. "What crawled up his ass?"

Tom hid his smile with his cup.

***

He hadn't flown in two years. The Raptor lurched awkwardly from the launchpad, and for a moment Felix wondered if this really was a bad idea. But then, as he told Tyrol, it came back, and he found himself melting into the controls.

He focused on the lights, on the precise motions flight required, especially flying this low to the ground. The Raptor wasn't really suited for this sort of expedition, and it required all of his concentration. Exactly what he wanted, because it forced the images from his mind and made him stay in the moment. When he was flying, he couldn't see Gaius sitting at his desk, head tipped back as that blonde whore straddled him.

When he was flying, he could completely forget.

He piloted the Raptor at breakneck speed, swerving to follow the river. "Hey!" Tyrol called from the back, "slow it down some, Gaeta! Pregnant woman back here, and if you make her puke you can clean it up!" But he only accelerated, and as he thought, when he heard someone retching it was Tyrol himself.

"Guess we know why they called him Pinball," he heard Cally mutter. Zarek clutched at a handle and was looking pretty white himself. Hex looked unaffected, and Cavett was dozing.

But the flying was making him feel better. The knots of tension in his shoulders were relaxing, and by the time they'd been flying for a half hour he wasn't gripping the controls so hard anymore. And when Hex announced that he'd picked up indications of sulfates on his sensors, Felix could even bring himself to smile.

***

"Well, Cavett?" Tyrol asked. "What do you think?"

"Should be easy enough to get to," Cavett said, sketching in his notebook. "And there's a reasonable supply here- it will at least get us started, until we can scout out more."

"How are we going to get it all back to the city?" Cally asked. "It's not like we can load up trucks and drive down nice paved roads."

"Boats," Felix answered shortly, and Zarek nodded. "That's why we stayed towards the river."

"Boats. Great." Tyrol paused. "Do we _have_ boats?"

"I talked to Pullman," Zarek said, leaning against a tree, "and I've got him started on getting a couple of barges going. They're rudimentary, but they'll do for the time being."

"And President Baltar's okayed all of this?" Tyrol asked, looking at Felix. Felix swallowed hard.

"It's probably best if you work through us," he began rather haltingly. He looked at Zarek uncertainly, and Zarek pushed off the tree and came over, all reassurance and official business.

"This is being done under the authority of the Vice President and the Chief of Staff, if you take my meaning," Zarek said. "The President wants people to have food. There's no need to bother him with the details."

Cally rolled her eyes, Cavett looked up and sighed heavily, and Tyrol just looked back and forth between the pair of them again. "Right," he said finally. "Got it. Cavett! You almost done over there? If we get back early enough, we can get some crews together to start up the river tomorrow morning."

"I'll be done in just a minute," Cavett said.

Felix nodded and went back to prep the Raptor, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he'd just sold his soul. If Gaius found out… but the picture of Gaius and the blonde came back, and he set his shoulders and steeled his resolve.

"Well, this will go a long way towards getting us going," he heard Tyrol say, and helped soothe his stomach. "Thanks."

***

"I am never, EVER flying anywhere with you again," Tom said as they stepped out of the Raptor. "I need a drink, badly, before I throw up again."

"I'm perfectly qualified-" Gaeta began.

"You fly like a madman," Tom said. He grabbed Gaeta's arm. "Come on. You're buying tonight."

He didn't say anything as they got their drinks and made their way to a table in a corner, a table that was becoming theirs. Gaeta sat playing with his drink, tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass. Tom pretended not to notice.

There was music tonight- a man sitting with a guitar and playing a sad song that Tom had never heard. He wondered if it was one the man had written, or one that had been popular in the last twenty years while music had barely existed for him. Gaeta seemed to be listening to it, head bowed and fingers moving slowly.

Tom broke first. "You've been in quite a mood all day."

"Rough night last night," Gaeta said.

"I know. You looked like you hadn't slept."

"I didn't." Gaeta sighed. "Look, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Baltar?" Tom asked lightly.

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it," Gaeta said, but Tom noticed it didn't have the heat he would have expected. He tipped his glass and his eyebrows in acknowledgement and went back to silence, waiting.

He didn't have to wait long. Gaeta swallowed the rest of his drink and then called for another and lit up a cigarette. "Do you know what the worst part is?" he said, and before Tom could respond he just rushed on, "He didn't even apologize. All he said was, 'Don't you knock?' I mean, I wasn't expecting him to run after me…." But he trailed off and looked away, and it was clear that while he might not have been expecting it, he sure as hell was hoping for it.

"Are you saying you caught Baltar with someone?" he asked, more because he didn't want Gaeta to put the pieces together than anything else.

Gaeta shrugged. "I knew it already," he said hollowly. "It was just a shock to see it, that's all."

"It made it real," Tom said sympathetically.

"Yeah, something like that." Gaeta flicked his fingers over the pack of cigarettes, and then belatedly offered one to Tom. "Sorry," he apologized.

"For what?" Tom asked.

Gaeta shrugged. "I usually prefer to keep my private life private," he said. "And besides, complaining about how my relationship with the President is blowing up in my face to the Vice President is probably up there on some list of 'how not to get ahead in office politics.'" He smiled wryly and took a deep drag on his cigarette and then coughed. "It's unprofessional," he said shortly.

"Welcome to politics," Tom said.

***

He helped Gaeta home. It was the least he could do, he supposed, although Tom didn't feel much guilt. If Baltar had had any real feelings for Gaeta, he could have easily turned down Polly's offer. No, if he felt guilty for anything, it was for getting the young man to buy _him_ drinks after a night like last night. Although, given the way Felix flew, Tom still felt it was justified.

He was stepping out of Gaeta's tent when he collided with someone. "Excuse me," he said, putting up a hand to catch them, and Laura Roslin fell right into his arms.

"Well, nice to see you too," he said, smiling.

Laura pushed away, righting herself and straightening her hair. "Good evening, Tom." She glanced around. "This isn't your place, is it?"

"No. No, just helping someone home."

Laura cocked an eyebrow. "A little early for that, don't you think?"

"He had a rough day. Perhaps a bit my fault," Tom confessed.

She laughed. "I'm sure. Well, Mr. Vice President, unless you're as drunk as your friend, would you like to join me for another drink?"

"This isn't just a shameless attempt to push an educational agenda on me, is it?"

"Of course it is," Laura said cheerfully. "I'll even buy."

"Well, in that case…" He fell into step beside her.

It was nice walking through the streets of New Caprica with her, and Laura was remarkably relaxed. "So what did you do to get Mr. Gaeta so drunk you had to help him home before the early hours?" she asked, a sly smile playing at her lips. "And why are you feeling guilty about it?"

"Who says I'm feeling guilty?"

"For you to admit culpability would imply some measure of guilt. Otherwise you'd be telling me it's his own problem."

"It is his own problem," Tom insisted. "But I sort of acted as a catalyst. Sped things up a bit."

"I see." To his surprise, Laura took his arm companionably. "For his own good."

Tom was silent for a while, listening to the muted sounds of voices and conversation as they walked. "The thing is, Laura," he began, "if I'm being honest, I _like_ the kid. I'm not enjoying making him a pawn."

She studied him. "You really do like him."

"You sound surprised."

"A little. He isn't your normal type of crony." Laura grinned wryly. "Far too honest."

Tom clapped a hand over his heart. "And here I thought you considered me a man of impeachable morals."

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" Laura asked.

"I'm going to be feeling it tomorrow," Tom admitted.

"Hmm." Laura dropped his arm and paused. "Maybe you should just get home yourself. I'll buy you a drink tomorrow." He was going to argue with her when she pressed a few cigarettes in his hand. "Share these with Mr. Gaeta. Peace offering, if need be."

"You don't want to talk educational policy at me when I'm drunk, guilty, and agreeable?" Tom asked hopefully, slipping the cigarettes into his pockets.

Laura laughed. "As tempting as it is, I do have my standards. Besides, it's not like you won't be drunk, guilty, and agreeable ever again. Have a good night, Tom."

He watched her walk off, shaking his head. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued home alone.

***

"Zarek!"

Tom sighed. That didn't take long.

Baltar burst into his office, clutching a report in one hand and the other clenched into a fist. "Good morning, Mr. President," Tom said, sitting back and looking as comfortable and Vice Presidential as possible. "What can I do for you on this fine New Caprican morning?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Baltar demanded, thrusting the report at Tom.

Tom took it, scanned it, and grinned to himself. It was a progress report that Gaeta had typed up, announcing that concrete production could now begin because the necessary materials had been procured.

"What's the problem with it?" he asked. "It looks like good news to me."

"How did they get the gypsum?" Gaius demanded, leaning in on Tom's desk.

Tom held his gaze. "Mr. President, are you saying that you don't _want_ the hydroponics facilities built?"

"I never said anything of the kind," Gaius growled, "and you know it. But this…" he struck the report with an emphatic slap, "this is not about gypsum or hydroponics or food production. This is about you going ahead and authorizing something without my approval. This is not your place, Mr. Vice President."

"Well, you weren't going to do it," Tom pointed out calmly.

"That's not the point. That's not the point at all." Gaius pulled back and drew himself up to his full height, mustering as much dignity as he could. "If you don't get back into line, Mr. Zarek, I will have you arrested and impeached for black market dealings."

Tom frowned. "I haven't been-"

"Who do you think Doyle Franks is going to believe?" Gaius asked with a sly grin. "Me or you?"

Tom met his gaze for a long time, and then looked down at the desk, suddenly very tired. "I'll make sure you approve the next step before it happens, Mr. President," he said.

***

"Felix."

Gaius's voice was smooth, gentle. Felix took a deep breath and turned around, leaving the plans he was studying spread out on the conference table. "Yes, Mr. President?" He closed his fingers around the hem of his jacket, willing himself to stay calm.

"You're here extremely late."

"I'm always here late, sir." He turned back to the plans.

"Yes, so I've noticed." Gaius came up behind him. Felix could feel his breath on the back of his neck and closed his eyes, deliberately remembering the image of the girl from a few nights ago. "You're always here late, always working so hard, and I don't think I appreciate you half as much as I should."

"Story of my life," Felix said lightly.

"So it would seem." Gaius's hands were on his waist now, working under his shirt and palms flat against his skin. Despite himself, Felix felt himself responding. "But I do want you to know-" a kiss on his neck, lips teasing his ear, hands urging him to turn around- "how much-" his shirt being pulled from his pants and opened- "I do appreciate you." Gaius's arms slipped around his waist and Felix closed his eyes.

"Oh, frak it," he whispered, and gave himself up again.

***

They sat on the edge of town, the lights behind them and darkness spread out before them. The wind was cold and made it hard to keep the cigarettes lit, but they huddled in their jackets and shielded the burning tips with their hands. A bottle of rotgut sat between them, and the cuffs of their pants were wet with mud.

"Where did you get this stuff?" Felix asked.

"Laura Roslin, if you can believe that," Tom said.

"Laura Roslin gave you this voluntarily?" Felix asked skeptically.

Tom grinned in the darkness. "What do you think? Am I in there with a chance?"

Felix took a deep drag, held it, and exhaled slowly. "I think you're insane. Besides, crushing on presidents is a bad idea. I know."

"We could form a club," Tom suggested. "We could even get jackets."

Felix's laugh was short and bitter, but it was a laugh. He reached down and took a drink from the bottle. "Somehow, I think you're in better shape than I am."

"You're frakking him again, aren't you?" Tom asked. Felix didn't answer; he just stared out into the darkness.

"Funny," he said, when the silence had stretched so long Tom had almost forgotten he'd spoken, "I've lived the last three years on the _Galactica_, but I've never seen darkness like this."

"I have."

"In the labor camp?"

"No- it was never fully dark in the labor camp. Back on Sagittaron, when I was a boy."

"Oh. Do you miss it? Sagittaron?"

Tom thought about that. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But it's been so long since I was anywhere I'd want to miss…. Do you realize," he said slowly, "that I am one of the few people whose situation actually improved when the Cylons attacked?"

"But your family-"

"They were dead before I was incarcerated."

"I'm sorry." Felix handed Tom the bottle. He took it; the rough liquor burned a path down his throat and sent tendrils of warmth to his limbs.

"Thank you." Tom crushed out the stub of the joint and lit another one. "I didn't lose much during the attack," he said, "I'd lost it all already."

Behind them, there was a short burst of people laughing. Felix looked over his shoulder, back at the lights and the shadows of the tent city. "It's good to hear people happy," he said. "Even if it's only for a minute." When he faced that way, there was enough light on his features that Tom could see the wistfulness, the hope that still lingered in his eyes.

"Do you miss _Galactica_?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Felix admitted. "But with everyone moving down here…" he shrugged. Tom handed him another joint. "But even then, it's not the same. And I guess New Caprica is starting to feel like home."

He said it, but he didn't seem to mean it. Impulsively, Tom reached out and ruffled the younger man's curls. "It will," he said.

Felix looked at him. "You did not just do that."

"What, this?" Tom asked, and did it again.

Felix glared at him for a moment, and then they both dissolved into helpless laughter. They laughed until their sides hurt, and they were both leaning on their knees for air. The faint stars above seemed a little brighter, and Tom imagined he could hear the music more clearly. Beside him, Felix was still chuckling, wiping away a tear from his eye. Tom put an arm around his shoulder as they looked out at the vast expanse of darkness one more time.

"It will happen, Felix," he said.

"Of course it will," Felix said, and pitched his voice low. "'This has all happened before, and it will all happen again." They dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"I don't know where Laura gets this stuff," Tom sighed, considering his joint, "but she should start selling it. She'd make a killing. Come on- I'm hungry. Let's go find something to eat."

***

The sun peeked out from behind dismal gray clouds every now and then, but it rarely seemed to warm the planet. The cold and the dampness settled into clothing and metal and bones, rendering each day so similar it didn't seem like months had passed.

"You really need to go down to the hospital tent," Gaius- President Baltar- whoever the frak he was today, Felix didn't know and didn't care- said, leaning against the doorjamb as Felix sat at his desk, hacking up a lung. "Honestly, the entire ship can hear you coughing. It's very distracting."

"Thanks for the concern," Felix gasped.

Gaius sighed impatiently, and Felix thought he smelled a whiff of liquor. It was hard to be sure- he couldn't smell much of anything these days. But before he could say anything, Gaius just waved at him. "Go," he said. "Take the rest of the day off if you need to, but get down to the hospital."

"Sir, I need to-" he began, but the rest was lost in a fit of coughing. The President shot him a significant glance, and Felix sighed. "Fine. I'll go."

He slipped on his coat and walked down the streets. There was a light wind today, and it nipped at his nose and made him shove his hands deep into his pockets. He noticed that fewer people met his eye, and several people steered clear of him, crossing the street in what was supposed to be a subtle attempt to avoid him. He couldn't blame them- so little of what they'd promised was done. He sighed and entered the medical tent.

The tent was busy, pale faces, low moans and the general bustle of medicine. But when Doc Cottle spotted him, he waved him over. "What can I do for you?"

Felix looked guiltily at the people he'd bypassed, but answered, "I've been coughing pretty badly."

"Well, sit yourself down," Cottle said, gesturing to an exam table and pulling a curtain. "And take off your shirt."

The exam didn't take long. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's bronchitis," Cottle said, putting down his stethoscope. "Normally, I'd prescribe you an antibiotic, but I'm starting to run short on them, and you're not in any danger. Rest when you can, drink a lot, and stop smoking. Stay away from cigarette smoke the best you can."

Felix smiled wryly. "I doubt I can do that."

Cottle looked at him levelly. "Ask the President to stop smoking around you. If he wants you to work, he'll do it."

"Right." Felix was saved from saying anything else by a bout of coughing. When he finished he leaned back on his hands, trying to take deep breaths. Cottle handed him his shirt, and he slipped it on and began to button it.

"I'm glad you came down. There's something I want to discuss with you before you go," Cottle said.

"Sir?" Felix replied, automatically.

Cottle flicked a grin, but then his face fell into its normal serious lines. "There are approximately forty thousand people on this planet's surface," he said. "And we have about twelve qualified doctors. Three of us are over fifty, and with the conditions here, I wouldn't rely on us living forever. At the same time, we don't have many medical textbooks, and we certainly don't have a medical college."

"Well, I can discuss it with the President," Felix began, "but I'm not sure I can-"

"I'm not discussing this with the President," Cottle snapped. "I'm discussing it with you. We need a short term solution, and that solution is something like an apprentice system."

"Oh. Well, I-"

"Felix, you know that when the elections come around again, Baltar is going to lose, right?"

Felix looked away, out the opening of the tent at the city they hadn't gotten built yet. "Things will turn around. They'll improve."

Cottle snorted. "Well, if they don't, come the election Baltar's going to be out of a Presidency, and you're going to be out of a job. And I'm guessing that you're going to have a very difficult time getting a job with whoever is elected. You might want to consider this seriously."

Felix stared at him. "You're offering me a job?" he finally asked.

"You're a bright young man with one hell of a work ethic. Yes, I'm offering you a job. When you finally decide you've had it with the morons up in Colonial One, you come down here and tell me and we'll get started."

"I…" Felix thought he was going to refuse, but what came out of his mouth instead was, "I need to think about it."

"Of course you do." Cottle stepped away, picking up his clipboard. "When you decide, come tell me."

***

"You're quiet tonight," Tom observed when he entered the conference room. "What did the doctor say?"

"Bronchitis," Felix said. "But we're running short on antibiotics." He was supposedly marking a document in front of him, but as Tom came closer he noticed there were no markings on the page.

"We're running short on everything. That's all it is?"

Felix didn't look up. "Yeah. Why?"

"Just…" Tom couldn't put the words to it, but Felix saved him.

"I guess there was something else. Doc Cottle offered me a job."

Tom sat down across from Felix. "Are you going to take it?"

"I don't know," Felix said, and began to cough. Tom waited patiently, and handed him a glass of water when he was done. "I made a promise," Felix said after he took a deep drink. "Hell, I swore an oath, essentially. I'm not thrilled about the idea of breaking it."

"I don't blame you." Tom rubbed his chin. "Especially since if you leave, it's a fair bet that half the programs we have managed to instate will collapse, and given how few we've been able to get going… If you left, I honestly don't know how I'd run this government without you."

"Right. And leaving would be like giving up. I can't give up, not yet."

Tom closed his eyes. "This has been your dream since we found this planet, hasn't it?"

Felix shrugged. "What would you do?"

There was something in Felix's voice that hit Tom like a Raptor at full speed, something trusting and sad and alone. For a moment he was thrust back through time, to a dead family and a twenty years of forced labor in front of him, to the solitude of confinement and the isolation amongst criminals. For a moment, as he sat there across from a young man asking his advice, wanting his guidance, Tom glimpsed at another life that he could have had. And he saw the life Felix could have, the breaks he'd be free to make and the chance that the light would come back to his eyes and the spring would come back to his step, even if it left Tom shorthanded. He closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead.

"I think you should consider it."  



	4. Chapter 4

  
"Felix, come on. You guys have got to give me something to work with here," Galen said, pounding the table in frustration. "This isn't employment- this is slavery."

Felix cringed, because Galen was exactly right and there was nothing he could do. _Get off your fat asses and do some work for a change_ was _not_ going to go over well. "I know," he said helplessly. "I really do, and I'm doing everything I can to-"

Galen looked him right in the eye. "It's not enough."

Felix bit his lip and looked away. "I know," he repeated.

"Look, Felix," Galen entreated, "you can do more than this. You helped us get the sulfates we needed. You went behind Baltar's back and got more medicine from the _Galactica_. You got Cavett's crew the parts they needed."

"I know."

"So why the _frak_ aren't you doing anything now?"

Felix clenched his fists in his pockets. "I am trying, Galen. I really am. But the President won't listen, and without him-"

"Frak the President," Galen said, glaring at him. "I'm not asking the frakking President to give us a decision. _You_ do it."

"I'm not authorized-"

"Frak it." Galen knocked the papers off the desk. "Frak this, Gaeta, and frak the President, and frak you." He stormed out of the tent, and Felix knelt to pick up the papers that were strewn about.

"Galen?" Cally pushed aside the flap and entered the union tent, awkward and graceless with pregnancy. "Galen?"

"He's not here," Felix said, still kneeling on the packed dirt floor.

Cally surveyed the scene. "I take it the meeting didn't go too well," she said with a sigh.

"You might say that." She began to bend down to help him gather the papers, and he stopped her. "Don't. Please."

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Felix sighed. "Exactly nothing."

Cally had an easy face to read, and he could see it all clicking in her mind. "Well, is there anything you could have done?" she demanded.

"No! If there was, don't you think I'd do it?"

"No," Cally said calmly. "Not if it meant going against Baltar."

"Watch it, Cally," he warned.

"Are you still frakking him?" she pushed.

"Cally, you know I haven't! Not for three months! Stop it!" He struggled to his feet.

"Then why won't you just walk away? He's no good for you, Felix!"

"Says the woman who married a guy who broke her jaw," he snapped.

Cally slapped him.

They stared at each other, the sound of her hand against his face echoing through the tent. Felix thought of how just a week ago he'd eaten dinner with Cally and Galen, and they'd talked about the baby coming and Cally had hinted that they might be asking him to be godfather. He closed his eyes and ground out, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Cally said miserably. "I'm… I'm going to go find Galen."

Felix watched her go, and then knelt back down to finish gathering the papers. But as he did, his legs gave out beneath him, and he sat on the cold dirt floor, staring blindly around him. Why didn't he walk away? He had someplace else to go- Cottle had made his offer five months ago, but it was still open. Felix had considered it, even gone so far as to go down to the medical tent. But going in would have been giving up- not on Gaius, but on New Caprica- and Felix couldn't do that. Not yet.

But he wished he could.

He was still sitting there when he heard a strange sound, something like a flight of Raptors, but not really. He struggled to his feet, stomping them to return the feeling- how long had he been sitting?- and then looked outside.

Raiders streaked across the New Caprican sky.

For a moment, he was frozen in shock and he could only stare. Then he was running, running as fast as he could against the crowd and over muddy roads and discarded trash, until he whipped into a Raptor. Hex was already there, shaking his head.

"They're gone," Hex said, white and shaking. "The Fleet- they're gone."

Felix shrank back, nodded, and began running again.

***

The clanging sound of Centurian joints sent chills down Tom's spine as the seemingly endless parade marched through the marketplace. He saw a small child hide behind his mother's skirt, an old man with tears streaking down into his beard. Ex-military, their faces set hard and determined. People who thought they'd built a life, uprooted in horror.

And yet, they still stood there. No nukes exploded, no bullets rang out, no blood was spilled. It could only mean one thing: occupation.

Surrender.

***

He surrendered. The blood roared in Felix's ears, and for a moment he thought he would attack Baltar himself. The bastard surrendered.

This was supposed to be their home. This was supposed to be a fresh start. And he- Gaius, President Gaius frakking Baltar- was supposed to be the guardian of it. And he _surrendered_.

Felix had thought he'd been nursing a broken heart for months now. In the moment that Gaius Baltar handed them all to the Cylons, he discovered he was wrong.

***

Tom approached _Colonial One_ nervously. The Centurians standing guard stepped aside, and he a few Fives and Fours regarded him as he entered the ship, but none of them stopped him.

The staff was already assembled in Gaius's office. Gaius himself looked like shit, slumped over at his desk, head cradled in his hands, shirt stained and wrinkled. The scent of stale liquor hung about him and pervaded the room, even with several other people present.

"And I think that you'll find we're more than reasonable." A One was speaking, gesturing like a slightly dirty grandpa patronizing younger men. "What we're asking- ordering, really, but let's keep a friendly face on it for now- is for us all to work for a brighter tomorrow." He used his fingers to make air quotes around the last two words, and Tom grit his teeth. "And we expect this administration to cooperate."

"And if we don't?" Tom asked.

Everyone turned to face him. He put his hands in his pockets and casually leaned against the wall, the posture of his body not betraying the pounding of his heart. Across the room, he spotted Felix, standing with a colorless face and a flare of hope in his eyes. Tom set his mouth and glared at the One.

"Excuse me?" the One said.

"I said, what if we don't cooperate?" Tom pushed to stand upright. "What if we say 'no, we don't want you here, we want our freedom'?"

The One snorted, like Tom was a child. "Then we'll overrun you, nuke the population, and that will be the end of the human race," he said simply. "But that's not what we're looking for. We're here to live in peace. To create a new society."

"Maybe we'd rather be dead than be slaves to your new society," Tom suggested.

"Well, I don't think you have the authority to make that decision, do you? You're not President."

They both looked over at Gaius, who still hadn't looked up. "You're surrendering," Tom said finally, although he had known that before he walked in.

"I don't have a choice," Gaius said.

Tom shook his head, and then looked back at the One. "I'm not."

The One smiled. "Are you going to let him talk like that, Mr. President?"

Gaius scowled. "What are you expecting? That I'll shoot him in the head? There will go any vision of a peaceful society, and you'll have an open revolt."

"He's right," one of the tall blond Sixes said. "We don't want that."

"Well, then. Drag him off to detention. It sends the message that we expect cooperation, but without the blood." The One dismissed it as an easy fix. "And if he gives you any trouble, then shoot him."

"Wait." Gaius leaned forward, and everyone looked at him. "Tom. Tom, are you sure that this is what you want to do? What do you, you of all people, owe humanity?"

Tom looked at Gaius, weak and quailing in his chair. He thought of the years alone, not wasted but given for a cause, for something he believed in. He thought of the nights of the election campaign when they'd talked about building a new society, and how easily Gaius had betrayed that dream, just so he could stay alive. He turned away in disgust.

He could back out, could back away. But he could never look in the mirror again.

Across the room, his eyes met Felix's. There was steel there, and pride. Somehow, Tom knew that Felix wasn't going to surrender either. The young man was looking at him with respect, with… with an expression that Tom had never really hoped to see in this lifetime. He smiled grimly, and then turned to Gaius.

"This is what I want to do. I will not ever collaborate."

"And what do you do now, Mr. President?" the One taunted.

Gaius shuddered and closed his eyes. "Take him to detention," he ordered.

As the Four and the Five herded him out at gunpoint, he heard the One ask, "Anyone else?" He waited, ready for Felix to follow.

But no one answered.

***

The room was silent. Felix swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and looked down at his shoes, willing himself to disappear. Unfortunately, he didn't.

An Eight stopped in front of him, and he forced himself to keep his breathing steady. It couldn't be… it couldn't be… it was.

"Are you going to give us trouble, too, Gaeta?" Boomer asked quietly.

The atmosphere was so taut that Felix was afraid even the wrong breath would tear it to shreds. He shook his head, not looking her in the eyes. "No," he said, his voice quavering with effort.

She studied him, and his heart almost stopped. He remembered that he used to like her, back when she and Chief were an item and he'd cringed every time she landed. She knew him, knew his convictions, and he knew he had one chance to play this right. He looked up, met her gaze, and then looked over at Gaius sitting hunched in his chair. Boomer looked over her shoulder, and then back at Felix, raising her eyebrows. He nodded once and looked down, attempting to fake embarrassment and finding that it was the real thing. Boomer smirked and then nodded once at the others.

Felix let himself breathe, quietly. He'd passed.

The One began talking again, outlining the Cylon vision for this shared dream. Felix slunk to the back of the room, hands trembling as he half-listened.

A part of him had wanted to follow Tom. No, not wanted, but _demanded_ to follow. It was a matter of principle. But one thing that Felix had learned from Tom over the past year was that principles were all very well and good, but it was practicality that kept you alive.

The ends justify the means. Tom had never told him that, but Felix had always known that that was what he believed. And now, the means were collaborating, well enough to get the Cylons to trust him, well enough to become important and get information. Because the end result was going to be defeating the Cylons, and Felix was willing to use any means at all to do it.

***

"We're going to have to build a better facility," the Five told the Two as they entered the Astral Queen. "This ship isn't very imposing."

"We agree," said the Two. He looked around at the place distastefully. "The Ones have something in mind already."

"Figures," the Five sighed. He pushed Tom along with his gun. Tom stumbled forward almost blindly. "Got one already."

The Two raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that the Vice President?"

The Five shrugged. "Guess so." He rooted through a pile of gray clothing and handed Tom a shirt and pants. "Better get comfortable," he said with a wicked smile.

Tom took the clothing, knowing all too well he wasn't going to get privacy to change. Fear began to choke him, and his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as if they'd grown too large to maneuver. But he stripped the shirt off as casually as possible, trying to push away the idea that these were not humans watching him, and therefore would accord him no human rights, no decency. There were no laws that protected prisoners in the Cylon-human war.

Tom really didn't like that thought.

It wasn't the same cell he'd occupied before the attack- the universe wasn't that ironic. But as the Five thrust him in and slammed the door, the clang of metal on metal echoed through his soul and forced him back in time, and everything he'd accomplished since the attack came collapsing down around him.

Once again, Tom Zarek was a prisoner.

***

The faces of the humans were closed now. No one met Felix's eye when he walked through the town, and no one spoke to him. He heard muttered curses and crude names, but they were rarely directly thrown at him… just said when he happened to be in the vicinity. He couldn't blame any of them.

He was walking through the marketplace when a hand reached out and grabbed him, and he was yanked back into the union tent.

"Felix," Galen whispered. "Are you all right?"

Felix shook his head. "Yeah. Why?"

Galen stared at him, and Felix suddenly realized that he was looking for physical marks; signs that he'd been tortured and forced to collaborate. He bowed his head.

It would be so easy to tell Galen what he'd planned. And he wanted to. But he didn't know what Galen was planning, if he would protect humanity or protect his family. And if he got caught even before he began… it would be catastrophic.

"I'm fine," he said, pushing away slightly. "It's… I'm fine."

"Yeah." Galen's hand dropped from his arm, and his face closed off. "Yeah, I see that." He looked like he wanted to say more, but his face was hardening and Felix could feel the distance between them increasing and growing cold as they stared at each other.

"Look, I should go," Felix said. "I'm late. Tell Cally… tell Cally to take care. Stay safe."

"Right. Like you," Galen said with a note of disgust. He glared at Felix one more time and then left.

"Yeah," Felix sighed. "Like me."

***

There were a few other inmates that had been taken early. Several were former military; Tom could tell that just from their bearing when they were brought in. Every time a Cylon passed his cell with a new prisoner, he extended his hand through the bars in solidarity. Every time he heard those footsteps his heart leapt, and he rushed to see if he knew the prisoner being brought in… if it was Felix.

It never was.

Locked in the Astral Queen, Tom had no sense of time. But he was pretty sure it wasn't long before the Cylons were hauling them outside, putting them to work under a guard of Centurians. The incarcerated humans were a very small knot of the work force, put to mixing concrete. The irony of the entire situation was not lost on him, and a bitter mirth sustained him.

Hours of work, and then hours of solitude, confined to a cell. Humiliation and hunger, anger and helplessness. All things he thought he'd left behind him, things he'd thought belonged to a past life. All things he'd never wanted to take up again, but at least he knew he could.

"I'll survive this," he repeated each night. "I'll survive."

***

Days slipped by.

The shock was not that Gaius had had a Cylon lover before the Colonies were attacked. After all, so had Galen Tyrol. And Felix wasn't even shocked that she was a look-alike of that Shelly Godfrey. Gaius had _said_ Godfrey was a Cylon after all. No, the shock was that Gaius began sleeping with her after what her people had done, and that she moved into his room on _Colonial One_ with all the trappings of commitment.

It didn't hurt, not like that. And yet, he retreated to his office, seething in frustration as he bent to the will of the Cylons day after day.

He became cut off from the humans, acting only as a voice on a loudspeaker and a messenger to the union, relaying Cylon orders. He hated himself, hated helping them, but there was nothing else he could do.

***

A Five stood over them, watching the convicts work. Tom shoveled the rocks, muscles screaming in agony.

There was blood on the Five's shirt.

It wasn't much- just little dots, like someone had been shot at close range. And when a Six asked him about it, Tom heard that the execution had taken place on _Colonial One_, but couldn't hear any further details.

Someone he knew was murdered, dead at the hands of the Cylons because they wouldn't cooperate. He couldn't figure out if he hoped it was or wasn't Felix.

Probably a bit of both.

***

"Sign this, Gaeta."

The Five- Felix was pretty sure it was Doral- shoved the paper in front of him. Felix scanned it quickly. Cutting rations again. He glanced at Doral and saw his nostrils flare with impatience.

"Just sign it."

It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't fatal. Felix dreaded the day they put one in front of him that was, but figured he probably wasn't important enough. Those blows would have to be delivered by Baltar. He signed the paper, his signature rough and like black lines cutting through his soul.

Doral smiled at him. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, and then left the office.

Felix sat back, surrounded by piles of papers and regulations, codes and uselessness. Nothing the Cylons had given him would be of any use to anyone. He bent over his desk and rubbed his eyes.

"Felix." Felix looked up to see Gaius standing in the door, disheveled and distraught. "Can I come in?"

"Can't stop you, Mr. President," Felix said resignedly.

Gaius came in and shut the door. "You have no idea how good it is to get away from them," he said, clearing off a chair.

"I'm sure," Felix murmured.

"Honestly, they think they understand human vagaries, but it's only becoming more and more of a mess." Gaius sat down in the chair. "But what could I do? I ask you, Felix, what could I do? If I didn't allow them here, they would have blown us all to bits. Without your friends on the _Galactica_ and the _Pegasus_, we had no hope."

"I know, sir."

Gaius reached in his pocket and pulled out his pills, and Felix sighed heavily. Gaius paused, eyebrows raised, and then put them back away. "Yes, you don't like that, do you?" he asked. There was something about his voice and the tilt of his head that sent a shaft of apprehension through Felix. He swallowed hard as Gaius leaned back and looked out the window over the settlement. "I wish more people would cooperate. The Cylons are getting angry, and I'm not sure how to placate them for much longer."

"Yes." Felix saw his opportunity and cleared his throat hopefully. "Sir, if you need help, I could take on more work. It's not like I have a life to go home to anyway."

"Thank you, Felix, I'll keep that in mind."

"Really, sir. Anything I can do to help."

He was busy thinking of what he could accomplish if he had more access to information, and so it was a shock when Gaius leaned across the desk and kissed him. For a long moment Felix couldn't pull away.

"You can help me," Gaius whispered, cupping his cheek.

"Gaius…."

"I need to feel human, to _be_ human. You've always done that for me, Felix. You've always been there when I needed you. I need you now, desperately."

Felix stood and pushed him away. "No," he said, his voice strangled. "Gaius…."

Gaius seemed genuinely bewildered, and it occurred to Felix that what he'd always thought was true- Gaius had no idea of the impact his actions had had on him. Not really. It had never registered. "You've never said no before," Gaius pointed out.

And the world came crashing down around him, yet again.

It wasn't that Gaius would force him, Felix had absolutely no illusions about that. There would be no threats, and if he continued his protests, Gaius would leave. But he would leave hurt and offended, his ego wounded and wondering at Felix's odd behavior. He'd begin to ask questions, to investigate, to watch him carefully, to attempt to seduce him back because Gaius would never believe he'd been refused.

He was trapped.

Gaius was still watching him, and Felix shook his head. "It's just… Caprica Six," he said lamely.

"Oh." Gaius stepped closer and pulled Felix in close. "Well, we just won't let her know." Gaius kissed him and then his hands were working at Felix's pants. The fabric fell to the ground, pooling at his feet, and Gaius put his hands on his shoulders and turned him around, bending him over his desk.

It wasn't physically painful; to Gaius, this was an act of pleasure for them both, like it always had been. He was considerate- as considerate as Gaius ever was in bed, anyway. But Felix kept his eyes closed throughout, and when it was over and Gaius finally left the office, comforted and buoyed, Felix put his head down on his desk and cried.

***

The Cylons were a hell of a lot more organized than they were, Tom could give them that. After a month, the new Detention Ministry rose up above the city, foreboding and gray. And then he was marched inside and pushed into a small cell, and he began to wonder if he'd ever see the outside of the Ministry again.

The cells were worse than the Astral Queen. There, he could see the other prisoners, and even talk to them to an extent. There was no privacy, but there was companionship. Here, in his cell with bright lights and no windows and rough concrete walls, there was nothing. No one.

Tom told himself he could stand it, but as he lost all track of time and space, he was beginning to wonder if he could.

***

He heard screams from his cell. Sometimes they were female, sometimes they were male, and the latter actually chilled him more. He huddled in a corner, telling himself that it was only the screams of insanity, of people wanting _out_. But he knew it wasn't true.

***

They came for him one day. He'd been expecting it, and managed to stand up and greet the Three and the Five with a smile. "What took you so long?" was all he said.

They led him down the corridor, past closed and locked doors and wails and babblings. As they passed a metal tank he caught a distorted glimpse of himself; rough and unshaven, ragged hair, filthy clothing and haggard eyes. He smiled grimly, raising his chin in challenge.

A Four tied Tom to a chair, securing him with zip ties. That was when his heart began to creep up into his throat and his insides began to twist, especially when the door opened and a One walked in.

He wasn't sure if this was the One called Cavil- they all looked alike to him. But he was sure that this was the last model he wanted to face down, because the Ones, the Cavils… they were bloodthirsty. That much he'd learned already.

There were long, slender glass rods laid out on a tray. Tom tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn to them. "I have to say," the One said, sitting down across from him, "I find your people very tiresome to work with. Very unorganized and inefficient. I should have known- I've worked with them before and your settlement leaves much to be desired- but nevertheless I am a little bit surprised."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Tom said, managing to sound confident and unconcerned.

"I'm sure. But if you really feel that way, you'll come back and work for our government. See, I've done some research on you, Mr. Zarek. Not only are you a very famous name, but you've been one of the few effective administrators around here. People apparently listen to you."

"News to me," Tom said. "As you said, you've seen the settlement."

The One nodded at the Four, and he picked up one of the long glass rods. As he did so, Tom could see the wires extending from it to a power source, and his mouth went dry. He braced himself as the Four inserted it into his ear, and then his nerves exploded into pain. He was vaguely aware that he screamed, but there would have been no way to stop it.

The pain left as abruptly as it came, and he was left slumped in the chair, panting.

"I think there will be less joking," One said, and Tom wished with all his might that he could come up with a snappy comeback line right then and there. "Are you willing to work for us, Mr. Zarek?"

"Over my dead body," Tom ground out.

The Five cleared his throat meaningfully, but the One sighed. "No, I suppose we're not there yet. Someday, perhaps." The One turned his attention back to Tom. "But let's see if we can… persuade you."

And the pain began again.

***

He'd only cried the once; Felix was grimly proud about that. After that, he'd firmly told himself to man up, shoulder his responsibilities, and remember that people had bigger problems than frakking an ex they hated. At least he was safe, he had more food than most, and he had some freedom. So on those occasions that Baltar came into his office or called him into his, Felix went through with it and told himself it was no big deal.

He was on his knees under the President's desk when the door opened. Gaius, who had been tipped back in his chair, jerked to attention, hitting Felix's head against the desk. Felix choked and swore at the same time, and then came up in a fit of coughing, only to meet the very interested gaze of Caprica Six, Boomer, and Leoben.

"Oh, frak," was all he could say.

Gaius snapped himself to some semblance of dignity. "Well, I, you see-" he began, shoving himself back into his pants. Leoben was snickering and Boomer was tactfully looking away, but Caprica Six was just standing there with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and an amused smirk playing on her lips.

"You're going to let them treat you like that?" Leoben asked her.

"You know there's far more to love than sex," Caprica Six told him. "As does Gaius."

Boomer rolled her eyes at them and reached down, offering Felix a hand to stand. He started to ignore it, but as he got to his feet he remembered how much such a gesture would say and accepted it. Just as well, because as he stood the world wobbled.

"Are you all right?" she asked him. Her face was sympathetic and it was so, so easy to think of her as Boomer just then, and to nod.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He cast another wary glance at Caprica Six, but she didn't seem intent on tossing him into detention or shooting him in the head.

Boomer took pity on him. "Look, it's late. Why don't you go home? Unless you really want to be here right now?"

Not particularly. He nodded, and she smiled and gestured for him to go.

Felix numbly pulled on his jacket and stepped outside Colonial One. He got all of twelve steps away when the urge to vomit was too great, and he had to step out of the path and bend over as his stomach rebelled. The blood pounded in his head and his ears, and his body shook, but it felt almost cleansing.

A hand was on his back, and he tried to jerk away but overbalanced. Whoever it was caught him, and helped him stand. Felix wiped his mouth and noticed with surprise that it was James Lyman–Jammer, who'd been working with Tyrol for so long. The thought of Tyrol made him cringe, and so he focused on the wide brown eyes facing him.

"Hey," Jammer said, all concern, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Felix gasped, straightening up and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Sorry."

"'Sokay," Jammer said. There was something twitchy about him, something edgy and nervous. It took Felix a long moment to recognize that it was simple decency and human concern warring with wondering if he was the enemy. He closed his eyes. "You really look like you could use a drink," Jammer said.

Felix nodded. "I'll buy," he said, the words like ashes in his mouth. If nothing else, the alcohol would burn away the bitterness of bile, and the taste of Gaius underneath.

They sat together awkwardly, at an out-of-the way table that Felix had gone to automatically. Funny, he hadn't set foot inside this tent since the occupation began, and the table he instinctively went to was the one he and Tom had sat at so many nights. He looked at the table, wondering how Tom was doing and praying he was still alive and whole.

"You okay?" Jammer asked him, and Felix wondered how bad he must look that Jammer felt it so necessary to ask him that many times.

"Fine," he said hollowly. They both knew he was lying, but Jammer seemed caught up in his own thoughts.

"Gaeta," he began slowly, "the New Caprica Police. The names for that, they're confidential, right?"

Felix studied him. Jammer seemed uncomfortable, although Felix suspected he knew where this was going. "Why would you need to know?" he asked.

"No reason," Jammer said, too lightly.

Well, there were two possible reasons. The papers Felix had finally managed to smuggle from the office burned hot in his jacket, and he leaned in, glancing around the room furtively.

"Either you're planning to join the NCP, or you're a member of the Resistance," he said in a low voice. "Which is it?"

Jammer forced a laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hope flared in Felix's heart. "The Resistance," he whispered. "Do you know people in it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Felix opened his mouth and then shut it again, because he couldn't tell Jammer. If Jammer knew, and then was captured… and that was assuming that Jammer was a member of the Resistance. Which Felix didn't know for sure. With a start of horror, he realized he couldn't trust the young man sitting in front of him, and for no good reason. And as Jammer watched him suspiciously, Felix realized he felt the same way.

"Well, frak," he said helplessly, sitting back.

Jammer picked up his drink. "Yeah," he said, just as helplessly. "Frak."

***

He was back in his cell. Tom waited until the Cylons left him and then collapsed on the floor, limbs trembling uncontrollably.

His lips were parched and the skin on his hands was cracked, and for some reason those two things hurt more than anything else, sharp stabbing pains that wouldn't let him sleep and escape. One knee was aching as well, sending shooting pains up his leg. But he couldn't bring himself to move, because no position was comfortable.

For a moment, he wished he could say yes, wished he could say he'd collaborate. But there were worse things than torture, and Tom was not going to sell his soul.

***

The papers couldn't stay in his tent, and Felix had no one to give them to. He had his suspicions of who might be involved in the Resistance, but the only names he knew for sure were the names of those incarcerated, and that did him no good. For two days he walked around with the memos in his jacket, on edge with a frenetic energy and trying not to jump every time someone spoke to him.

He was walking to the water reclamation plant with the plans for some launchpad when he passed the medical tent and the idea seized him. He clung to it like a drowning man to a life preserver and darted inside.

For a moment, he wished he hadn't.

The tent was full, both skinjobs and people. A man slept on the floor, his face white and his head pillowed in his wife's lap. A snuffling child was whimpering, a bandaged cut on her forehead. A woman was crying desperately, and the face of the human doctor helping her was a mask of grief. It was a collection of misery worse than anything he'd seen on the streets of New Caprica, and for a moment all Felix could do was stand and stare.

The sound of metal on metal pulled his attention, and a privacy curtain was pushed back. He spotted Seelix sliding gingerly off the examining table. The doctor, a younger woman with a messy ponytail that spoke of hours of work, helped her sympathetically. Felix stared, because he was pretty sure women weren't that sore after a routine exam, and he'd suspected that this was happening. He bit his lip and looked away.

The doctor said something to Seelix and then came over, her face hard. "What do you want?" she demanded ungraciously. "I've got work to do."

"I need to see Doctor Cottle."

"Yeah, well, he's in surgery. So if that's all you want, get out of here and get back up to _Colonial One_ and keep ruining all our lives."

There was so much anger and bitterness in her voice that Felix perked up. If she wasn't a member of the Resistance, maybe she knew someone… but she was no friend of the Cylons. "Can you help me?" he asked.

She huffed irritably and pushed an escaped tendril of hair out of her eyes. "Fine, if it will get you out of my sight quicker," she said, and then loudly added, "Come on, Mr. Gaeta, and we'll see what we can do about that rash."

"Very funny," he muttered as she led him back to the exam table and pulled the curtain.

"Well?" she said ungraciously once they were alone, "what is it?"

Felix looked around unnecessarily and leaned in. "Listen," he said, pulling out the papers, heart in his throat. "I need to get these to the Resistance. Do you know anyone in it?"

"Do you really think I'd tell you?" the doctor asked. But as she looked down at the papers, her eyes widened. "These are Cylon positions."

"I told you," Felix said desperately. "Can you help me?"

She touched the papers tentatively, and then suddenly pulled back. "Why now?" she demanded. "The Cylons have been here for two months and you haven't lifted a finger to help us before."

"I haven't been able to get anything like this before," Felix told her, smacking the papers against his palm. "Before this, all they gave me was busywork and information that would be absolutely no use to anyone. It took time for them to trust me."

"How do you know they won't figure out it's you?"

Felix swallowed and looked away. "Something happened two days ago that made me into a huge joke for them. They won't take me seriously- at least, not as a threat."

"What happened?" she snorted, "did they catch you giving Baltar a blow job?" He was silent, lips clenched together, and she paled. "Oh, Gods, I'm sorry. That was amazingly insensitive of me, I-" but then she shook herself, as if she remembered who she was talking to. "Look," she said, "I can't serve as your go between. The skin jobs are in here all the time."

Felix shook his head. "What about a dead drop?" he said. "If we could set up a location and you could let someone know where it is and the signal… actually, that would be best. I wouldn't know the name of the person getting the information, and they wouldn't know mine. That way if one of us is caught…." His breath caught in his throat and he couldn't go on.

But the doctor was nodding vigorously. "There's a garbage dump right across the way," she said in a low voice. "I know it pretty well because I live right next to it. There's a drawer you could use- do you know the one I'm talking about?"

Felix nodded. "And a signal?"

She thought, and then leaned even closer. "I have a dog," she said. "Jake. He has a yellow food bowl. When there's a message in the dump, flip it over. I'll keep an eye out and make sure I don't flip it back and fill it until it's picked up."

"Got it."

She studied him one more time. "If you're lying about this, I'll turn you into the Cylons myself, and I'll make sure you don't leave that prison of theirs."

"I'm not lying," Felix said.

She gave him that skeptical look one more time and then opened the curtain. "That should take care of it, Mr. Gaeta," she said loudly. "Just put some cream on it and stop playing with it so much, and it should clear up in days."

"I hate you," he said under the laughter of the people listening, but he moved away.

Across the tent he spotted the Tyrols sitting together. Galen was holding a small bundle wrapped in a ragged gray blanket, and with a start he realized that he hadn't heard she'd had the baby, didn't know the name… didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl. Cally still looked pregnant, and Felix supposed that meant it had been very recently. He caught her eye, but she glared at him and then turned away.

The doctor came out from the examining room. "Mr. and Mrs. Tyrol?" Felix heard her ask as he left, "I can see Nicholas now."  



	5. Chapter 5

The wind was as cold and bitter as it had ever been, but it felt worse tonight. Felix propped up the collar of his jacket and pulled a hat on, partly for protection from the cold and partly to hide the curls that were too characteristic. And, if he was being honest, it was best to hide from people in general. He really didn't feel like being spit on tonight.

Jake was out, head between his paws, watching him mournfully. His bowl was tipped up the right way, water in it. His contact must have gotten the note about Baltar skipping graduation, although it had done no good.

Suicide bombers.

He knelt down and scratched Jake's ears, and the dog thumped his tail eagerly.

The idea of suicide bombers bothered him, because for once it was an issue where he didn't know what to think. Before the occupation, he would have called it murder. Now, he called it desperation.

He flipped open the drawer, map in hand, and started as he saw an envelope already there. He put the map in and slipped the packet into his coat and hurried back to his tent. In the faint light and the dank smell of earth and mold, he opened the envelope. The note was simple:

_Tell detainees to be ready._

Felix began to tremble as the meaning sank in. _Be ready._

Admiral Adama was coming for them.

***

The food was meager, half-spoiled and shoved through the door in a bowl with no utensils. Tom ate it anyway, hunger overcoming revulsion.

Not for the first time, he wondered how this was going to end. A public execution to make a point? Dying in the torture chamber when the Cylons finally went too far? A painful, dirty, and quiet death from the conditions he was living under? He rather hoped for the first. Not just because it would be noble, not just because it would be honorable, but because then he would feel the sunlight on his face one more time before he died.

***

Boomer had an office on _Colonial One_. Felix wasn't completely sure what she did there, but he knew that she did something with the Detention Ministry. He waited until he was sure she was alone and then knocked on her door.

"Yes?" Boomer looked up from something she was writing. "Gaeta. Come on in."

"Thanks."

"What's up?" she asked, setting aside her pen and folding her hands.

He'd rehearsed this in his head. There were so many things he couldn't say, couldn't ask about or begin or mention, because she'd be on to him. "I have the paperwork on the rations for the detention center for you," he began, extending it.

"Thank you."

"There was also something else I wanted to ask you about." He tried not to look so uneasy. "Before the Cylons came to New Caprica, about the only way I could get anything done around here was with Zarek's help."

Boomer grinned. "Is Felix Gaeta _finally_ admitting that the great Dr. Baltar is human after all?"

"Yeah, well, I-" he was saved from having to answer, but his salvation came in the form of Caprica Six knocking on the door. She nodded to Gaeta, but he looked right past her, his already nervous stomach a roiling mass of anger and acid just at the sight of her. She shook her head and turned to Boomer.

"Cavil's calling a meeting," she said.

"I'll be there in just a minute. Mr. Gaeta, you were saying?"

He had to finish, even with Caprica Six standing there. "Just… I was wondering if I could talk to him. Maybe I could convince him to help out, to see reason."

Boomer shook her head. "That won't be possible."

"Is he… alive?"

"You know I can't answer that," she said, nodding her head very slightly.

Felix sighed. "Well, thank you. I think I'll head home, if that's all right with you?"

"Good night, Gaeta," Boomer said. Caprica Six echoed her, but he ignored her and walked away. When he left _Colonial One_ and was safe in his tent, he allowed himself to finally breathe.

***

"He wanted to see Tom Zarek?" Cavil asked. "That's not good. That's not good at all."

"Why not?" Boomer asked. "They worked together. I think it's perfectly reasonable a guy like Gaeta would want to know what's become of his co-worker. And he can't do it _all_ by himself."

"He's not doing it all by himself," a Two said. "There's an entire administration."

"Well, we can always put Gaeta on the list," D'Anna suggested.

"That's an idea," Cavil agreed.

"No," Caprica Six said firmly.

Cavil raised his eyebrows. "I would think you'd be happy to get rid of your… rival."

"Please, he's not my rival." She rolled her eyes. "But if you put him on the list, Gaius won't sign it."

"Baltar will sign it," a Four said in a bored voice. "We'll see to it, no matter who's on it."

"He is useful," Simon said, glancing at his copy that had spoken. "He does more work than anyone around here."

"It's not necessary," Boomer insisted. "He just wanted to see a friend."

"And you trust that?" Cavil asked skeptically.

Boomer lifted her chin. "You don't know Gaeta. I do. He's honest. And he's doing his best to help us."

"He's still getting too uppity," Cavil muttered.

"Put Zarek on," D'Anna suggested. "It sends a message- not only to Baltar and the people, but to Gaeta."

Caprica Six nodded. "We agree."

***

The door opened, letting sound into the cell. Tom turned over to face it, squinting to see the intruder. Two people in masks stood in the doorway wearing greenish uniforms. Humans, he realized with a start, and the thought made him utterly sick.

"Come with us," the one on the left said.

To his surprise, he was led to the showers, and even given a razor. There were a few other people in there, some who looked just as thin and ragged as he felt. He smiled at one in solidarity. They weren't given soap and only had a few minutes, but he did the best he could. This was either really good or really bad, and he honestly wasn't sure which.

They dressed and were led outside. If nothing else, whatever coming was worth it just for that. Tom closed his eyes and tipped his face skyward, just for a second, before he was grabbed, cuffed, and shoved up onto a truck.

To his surprise, Laura Roslin was sitting right there. "Need a lift, Mr. Vice President?" she asked.

If there was anything that could make him smile, it was the sight of her. He hadn't thought that much about her while he was in detention, but seeing her again was even better than seeing the sun. "Guess so," he managed. It hurt to talk, he discovered; his throat was rough with disuse.

Laura was staring at him, and he wondered just how badly he looked. "Haven't seen much of you lately," she said. "Been busy these days?"

That said a lot about information in the occupation right there. He shrugged. "Well, not much to do in detention."

"How long have you been held?" she asked.

"Four months, I think. I told Baltar I wouldn't have any part of collaborating with the Cylons. And he got a little pissed."

Roslin indicated her own zip cuffs. "I think he's a little pissed at me, too."

Tom laughed, and the trucks lurched into motion. "Tell me, Laura," he said, pitching his voice low and leaning into her ear, "what's been going on? I take it Baltar's still alive?"

Laura's lips twisted into an ugly form of a smile. "Yes, Baltar is still alive," she said. "Did you expect anything else?"

"Not really. I see there are a lot of detainees. I take it people aren't just buckling under the Cylon rule?"

"Not all of them."

"Good." He lifted his hands and scratched at his ear; his fingers came away flecked with dried blood. "How about the rest of the administration?"

"Collaborators," Laura spat. "A few were put in detention and the Cylons shot a couple, but for the most part they've been working with the Cylons."

The truck hit a pothole, and Tom realized he had no idea where they were going or how much time he had before he got there. With numb lips, he asked the one question that mattered to him. "What about Felix Gaeta?"

"Gaeta? He's been right up there in _Colonial One_, Baltar's right hand man." The pain he felt in his stomach was so real that Tom had to bend over, burying his head between his knees. Laura touched his leg tentatively. "Tom?"

He drew deep breaths, pushing away the memories and the feeling of a young man's curls under his hand. He felt like the bottom of the world had dropped out from under him and something important had been ripped away.

"Tom?" Laura asked again. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He sat back up, pulling himself together. "It's just…."

"I know." Her eyes were sympathetic.

There wasn't much else to say. He fixed his gaze on the floorboards as the truck jostled and rumbled, occasionally straining against the zip tie cuffs more out of principle than because he thought it would have any sort of effect. Laura sat back as well, lost in her own thoughts and fears. Her thigh was warm and solid against his, and reassuring. No matter what he was facing, at least he wasn't facing it alone anymore.

***

After he'd put the death list in the dead drop, Felix ran after the trucks, heart in his throat and unable to breathe. Two hundred names on that list… two hundred people being put to death and _he couldn't stop it_.

He couldn't find Cally, and he didn't spot Tom. And there was the horrible, terrible knowledge that even if he'd found either of them, there was nothing he could do. If he'd cried out, told Cavil to stop, told him to let even just one of them go, Cavil wouldn't just say no, but he wouldn't hesitate to put Felix on the truck himself.

And he hated himself then, because in that moment it felt like Galen was right. He wasn't doing _anything._

***

The truck lurched to a stop, and one of the masked humans was pounding on the back. "Let's go. All right, everybody out. Five minute rest break. Come on, move! Everybody out!" He looked at Laura, who shrugged, and then jumped out of the truck.

The first sign that something was wrong was that they weren't anyplace that Tom recognized. No one was around; there were no signs of human or mechanical life. There was nothing to indicate that forced labor- no tools being unloaded and no cuffs were being cut. But at the same time, nothing else was happening, either.

The enchantment of the sun on his face had long since faded. Tom looked at the bleak, untouched landscape with a sinking heart. Laura was still next to him, looking around with the same not-wanting-to-know look.

"Tell me something, Laura," he said. "Last year? You tried to steal the election, didn't you?"

Laura smiled ruefully. "Yes, I did, Tom."

He couldn't help it- he had to laugh. "Oh. I wish you'd gone through with it."

"Me too." Laura admitted.

He was about to ask her what stopped her when the Centurians crested the hill. And that was the second sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Laura froze, watching them, and Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the front of the group. Then the sound of gunshots exploded, and Laura pushed him to the ground. They hit hard, rolling over a small ledge and through grit and over small woody plants, until he wasn't sure if he'd escaped or if he'd been shot.

They lay there for a long moment, both of them bruised and shaken, but neither of them dying. And as Tom looked up the bluff, he realized that somehow- some way- the execution had been averted. He started to sit up, not quite able to believe it.

Laura eased herself up as well. "You all right, Tom?"

"Yeah. Been a while since I had a woman throw me to the ground. Not quite as much fun as I remember." He heard a scream, but it was only one, not echoed by other humans, and his heart leapt. Suddenly, the grays took on new colors, and the stiff breeze had a hint of warmth.

"You all right down there?"

They both looked up to see Galen Tyrol grinning at them, Cally by his side. Laura's body relaxed in relief. "Oh, my Gods. It's good to see you, Chief." Tom could only agree whole-heartedly.

"Good to see you too, ma'am."

"What happens now?" Tyrol's wife asked, and Tom noticed she was wearing gray prison rags as well. "Where do we go from here?"

"We're going home," Tyrol told her. "We're going home. Admiral Adama's on his way. We're getting off this rock. We're going back to _Galactica_."

And there were no words for the gratitude that flooded his soul.

***

Felix couldn't concentrate. He sat staring at the work on his desk, trying to process the information and completely unable.

He looked at the clock. Three hours since the trucks had left. Five hours and thirteen minutes since that death list had landed on his desk. He tried to swallow, but the muscles wouldn't move. He didn't know what he'd say when he saw Galen, didn't know what he'd say when he had to face the forty thousand people of New Caprica.

He pushed the paperwork away and sat staring out the window, trying not to remember when he'd gazed at the same view with pride. His city, his civilization, his world.

For a second, he could taste the champagne Gaius had poured for him when he'd climbed off that Raptor over a year ago. For a long moment, he remembered Gaius's arm around his shoulders, his toast that because of Felix Gaeta's honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica could become a reality.

Because of him. Because of his honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica was a grim nightmare of a reality.

He sat there, unable to move, as the sun crossed the sky and shadows lengthened and darkness began to fall. Finally, his legs fell asleep and his bladder wouldn't be ignored, and the needs of his body overcame the emptiness in his soul enough for him to move. But as he stood, the noise in the hallway froze him. One of the Ones was coming in- Cavil, it sounded like- and he was angry.

Very angry.

Awkwardly, numb feet screaming in protest, Felix edged his way to the door. He could hear voices, the familiar voices of Cylons, meeting in the President's office. He snatched a few random files off his desk and made his way down the hall, ears perked up.

"They decimated the Centurians," Cavil was saying, "and the New Caprica Police Force that you're so proud of was useless. The insurgents were not only there, they were expecting us. The detainees all escaped."

The feeling returned to his legs in sharp, shooting pains, pains that stretched up his spine and through his limbs as life returned back to him. Felix held his breath, waiting to hear if they wondered how the insurgents knew, but Cavil seemed more intent on his own personal ethical issues. He let his breath out slowly and edged away, his gait becoming less awkward as the blood pounded through his veins.

He'd done it.

But as he left, he heard Doral say, "Your detainees escaped, perhaps. But our group did not. At least one of us carried out the plan."

His knees gave out and he fell against the wall, and for a moment he couldn't see. Around a hundred people he'd saved, and a hundred people who'd died. Somehow, they didn't balance out.

***

"You can stay here tonight," Tyrol told Tom. "Not much in the way of a bed, but I can get you some blankets."

"Thanks," Tom said. "Believe me, I can make do."

"I believe it, Mr. Vice President, sir," Tyrol said with a grim smile, and he clapped him on the shoulder that Tom recognized as pride. He managed a smile back, and then retreated to a corner.

He had blankets, food that wasn't rotting, clean water, and the use of some facilities. He had a warm floor and the darkness and relative safety of the tunnels the insurgency was using. Tyrol had sat down at the computer and the soft typing sounds were hypnotic, a gentle blue glow filling the room. But although every muscle in his body was crying out for rest, Tom couldn't sleep. He sat up, his back against the rough dirt wall, staring into space.

Tomorrow it would all be over, and if everything went as planned they'd be off this planet and back on the ships. And yet, somehow Tom couldn't help but feel that it was only the beginning of the end.

***

Felix couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep, couldn't work, could only walk through the streets with a frenetic energy jerking his limbs. A few people scuttled here and there, with frantic whispers and downcast faces. He wished… oh, Gods knew what he wished. The list was far too long to enumerate.

"Gaeta?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jammer."

He hadn't seen much of Jammer since that day he'd first gotten information to pass, but he'd seen his name on his desk several times, most recently this morning. He'd wanted to hate him, and he did hate him… but no more than he hated himself.

"It's almost curfew," Jammer said. "What are you doing out?"

"I… I just needed to walk. Clear my head." His voice trembled as he spoke.

Jammer studied him for a long moment and then nodded. "Yeah. Same here."

Jammer fell in beside him, and their footsteps sounded over the packed dirt with a military cadence. "Bad day today?" Felix asked.

"Yeah," Jammer said. "You too?"

"Yeah."

"It could have been worse."

"I know."

Jammer laughed, his breath a puff of fog in the cold night air. "Remember when we could say what we actually meant?"

Felix rubbed at his eyes. "No," he said. "Not anymore."

"It's just… I wanted to do something right. I wanted to help, get the Cylons off the streets. And somehow, it all went to shit."

"Yeah. I know."

They stopped and looked at each other, and Felix saw the frustration, anger and hate he felt reflected on Jammer's face. And suddenly he was very, very tired, body and soul.

The wind blew, and a chain rustled. Jammer turned his head, and improbably, a smile ghosted over his face. "Come on," he said. "I'll race you."

He was off, sprinting towards a playground that had been constructed over a year ago. A part of Felix's mind gaped at the sight, but his own feet were moving, trying to catch up, running until he flung himself onto a swing. The metal was ice cold under his hands, but he pulled on the chains and kicked out his feet, and then he was flying next to Jammer.

"You know what I miss?" Jammer said as they swung. "I miss chocolate."

"Never a chocolate person, but I miss caramel," Felix admitted.

"I miss beer. Real beer."

"I miss scotch. The good stuff like my father used to drink, not the rotgut that's left."

"I miss reading. I've read every thriller I can get my hands on, but that's maybe ten since the attack."

"I miss going to the movies. I used to go every week, before I was assigned to _Galactica_."

"I miss music. It's been so long since I've heard good music." Jammer said, and then laughed bitterly. "My mom was a singer."

"Yeah?" Felix closed his eyes and tipped back even further, and the swing set shook as his swing went higher.

"Yeah," Jammer said. "She used to sing to herself all the time…" He pulled harder on the chains of his swing and began to sing an old lullabye. He had a good voice, soothing and sure, and Felix found himself picking up the harmony, weaving the music together, their voices climbing as they swung in unison.

"Mr. Gaeta. Captain Lyman." They both stopped swinging suddenly, coming back down to earth as an angry Cavil and an amused Leoben stared at them. "What in the world are the two of you doing? You represent this administration, and you're behaving like children."

"Sorry, sir," Jammer said, and Felix echoed him.

"That's all very well and good, but get off those swings and act like a captain and a Chief of Staff before I really lose my patience and toss you both in detention for breaking curfew."

"Right away, sir." Jammer pulled a mask and an armband from his pocket, and the warmth Felix had begun feeling drained away. Cavil shook his head and stormed off, muttering at Leoben about discipline.

Leoben turned before he left. "I liked the music," he said. "Truly, you were both blessed by God to create something so beautiful."

"He really creeps me out," Jammer said, putting his armband on. He pulled the mask over his face. "Come on. I'll walk you home so you're not in trouble."

"Thanks."

They walked through the streets again, silent until they reached Felix's tent. "Thanks," Felix said awkwardly.

"You're welcome." Jammer hesitated. "Do you know what's going on? I mean, has anyone thought to tell you?"

A great sadness swept over him then, because _no_, no one had actually told him. His contact had given him enough information that he could figure it out, but had wisely given no specifics. But all he did was shrug and say, "Yeah."

"Okay." Jammer nodded. "See you there."

"Yeah. See you there."

He watched Jammer go, thinking of how the deckhand had been on the _Galactica_ and thinking of what his life had become now. What all of their lives had become since- no, not just since the Cylon attack, but since they landed on New Caprica, and like a bolt from the blue, his course of action became clear to him.

For the first time since the occupation began, Felix felt some measure of peace. He went inside and found his old sidearm.

He'd been trying to run from the thought of what New Caprica had become, both before and after the Cylon occupation. But tonight, seeing what Jammer had become and… he ground his teeth and forced himself to say it- what _he_ had become… and what they had both once been, he couldn't run from it any more. He'd never expected paradise, but he'd never expected Hell, either.

He'd betrayed his commanding officers, his people, his dreams, and himself. He'd betrayed humanity, handing them over to the man who couldn't fight, couldn't defend them- no. _Wouldn't_ defend them. Gaius should have died today, should have made a stand.

He loaded the pistol and then put it in his coat. When he saw his chance, Felix was going to make it right.

***

Felix knew it was coming, but he hadn't expected it would be that day. He didn't know the details of the plans. So when the explosions began, he didn't even have to fake shock and horror; he just rose to his feet in awe.

"Oh my Gods," he said, and it had the tone of a prayer.

His contact hadn't been explicit, but he hadn't really needed to be; Felix knew what he needed to do. He jumped to the phone and began calling the water reclamation plant, the mines, the places where humans were working and ordering evacuations. Get them away from the Cylons and out to places where they could run for cover. Get them out of buildings before they could be corralled and slaughtered. Sound official, sound trustworthy, sound important… and all the time the gun burned in his coat pocket.

He heard the rumble as the sky split open in flame, and the familiar sounds of Vipers and Raptors soaring overhead. Explosions and screaming, death and chaos and escape. Cylons shouting, in confusion and anger as what they called a dream blew up all around them.

And in the corner, there was Gaius, standing helplessly, not sure what side he was on.

An interminable time later, he was able to slip away. He ran to the controls of _Colonial One_, prepping them as best he could without the launch key so take off would involve a minimum of time. He double and triple checked, but the controls blurred in front of him. Out the window, he could see small fires and large clouds of soot and dust.

His city, gone.

Gunfire crackled, and he heard human screams- the screams of the dying. It was always hard to hear those sounds as he listened to the pilots in the CIC; here, it was a million times worse. He stared out the window and then lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders and pulling out the gun.

_Colonial One_ was nearly silent as he walked back through it; the Cylons had fled. But somehow… somehow he knew Baltar hadn't, that he would be here dragging out the drama and convincing himself he was right.

"Gaius, we should go," he heard Caprica Six say, and he knew he was right.

"I just want to sit here and die," Gaius responded, dropping his head into his hands.

If he was worried he'd back out, that statement assuaged his fears. Die? Gaius wanted to die? Then he should have done that yesterday and made a stand instead of signing an execution order. He moved forward and cocked his gun.

"You're gonna get your wish, Gaius."

Gaius looked up, completely shocked, and that only made it worse. He had no idea? No idea at all? Felix knew he wasn't that difficult to read… if someone took the time to do so. "I believed in you," he ground out.

"Whoa. Whoa, Gaeta," Caprica Six began, and he trained the gun on her. He hadn't planned on it, but suddenly he knew he was going to shoot her right after. The thought bothered him not at all.

"I believed in the dream of New Caprica," he said.

Caprica Six interrupted. "Gaeta, we all did."

"No!" he shouted, because they weren't talking about the same dream. "No. Not him. He believed in the dream of Gaius Baltar. The good life. Booze, pills, hot and cold running interns. He lead us to the apocalypse, and-- and I--I turned out to be—"

His throat closed, and he couldn't continue.

"An idealist," Gaius said gently. "There's no sin in that. Everything you say about me is true. Every word. But you have to listen to me. The Cylons have a nuke in this complex. Nobody... and I mean nobody is getting off this planet alive unless I stop D'anna."

That froze him; he hadn't planned for that.

Caprica Six shook her head. "Gaius, she'll kill you."

"Then she'll kill me. Or it'll be down to Mr. Gaeta. Either way, the human race dies with me." He stepped forward, his chest flush against the barrel of the gun. "Go ahead, shoot. What are you waiting for? Do it." He grabbed the gun and wrested it towards his chin. "Please. Please. I'm begging you to please –"

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Gaius was supposed to cry, to beg, or to not care. He'd been prepared for any of those. He hadn't been prepared for this, hadn't planned for the hope that welled up in him one last time as Gaius told him he'd save them all.

His eyes met Gaius's, and in them he could see the nights they'd spent together, the love he'd felt for so long, the trust and the joy and the long, slow downward spiral to where they were now. He remembered seeing honor and brilliance, and once more, he couldn't believe it was gone.

"You have one chance to put things right," he heard himself saying. "Do you understand me? Get the frak out of here! Stop that nuke! Go!"

Caprica Six dragged him out, and as she did, he turned back one last time, and Felix whispered, "Goodbye."

***

The explosions were tapering off, the ships were jumping away. "I think we've got most everyone," Tigh said, limping as quickly as he could into the Raptor. "And there are still two more Raptors on the ground. We'll give it five more minutes, and then we'll jump."

Tom nodded, wiping the sweat and blood off his brow. Five more minutes. He could survive five more minutes.

"Look!" One of the young block captains pointed out the Raptor. "I'll go help him." Tom leaned out and saw Dr. Cottle running as fast as he could, carrying a woman. A dog was nipping at his heels. The block captain met them halfway and Cottle thrust a bag into his hands. They made it to the Raptor, and Tom shifted people aside so that Cottle could lay the woman out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Gunshot wound in the stomach," Cottle said. "Get something to cover her- she's going into shock." Tom stripped off his own jacket and began rooting around. The tall ECO swung back and reached up over Tom's head, handing him the medical emergency kit. "Thanks," Tom gasped, opening the box. The woman was unconscious and white, and Cottle's face was extremely serious.

The ECO nodded and headed back towards the front, but as he passed the door he looked out. "Felix," he said, and Tom's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Gaeta?" Tigh said, peering out. "Leave him. Frakking collaborator."

"What do you mean?" the ECO asked.

"He stayed Chief of Staff to Baltar the entire time," Tigh scowled. "It's only fitting."

"Zarek, hand me the morpha in that kit," Cottle demanded. Tom complied, but as he did he heard himself saying, "I'm with Tigh."

"No," the ECO said, although he looked a lot less sympathetic. "He's coming up. The Admiral can sort it out."

"Racetrack," Tigh growled, "control your ECO." The ECO jumped out of the Raptor.

"Sorry, sir, Skulls is right. Admiral's orders- everyone alive gets off the planet. Even if we found Baltar."

"Zarek!" Cottle shouted. "Get over here now!"

As he darted back to the patient, he saw the ECO jump down and pull Gaeta up onto the Raptor. He was pale and shaking, but Tom noticed he was the same weight as when he'd last seen him, and his clothing looked like it was in good condition. He turned away in disgust and went back to following Cottle's directions as best he could. He had no clear idea as to who the patient was, but he was pretty sure she was more deserving of his attention than Gaeta was.

"We're losing her," Cottle said.

The thrusters started and the Raptor took off. Tom braced for the jump, and then they were away. He closed his eyes in relief and whispered a prayer of thanks.

Under his hands, the woman stiffened and drew in a strangled breath.

Cottle pushed him out of the way and began CPR, but even as he watched Tom knew it was futile. The Raptor was silent, only the beeping of the instruments and the sounds of a frantic effort from Cottle. But finally the doctor sat back. "She's gone," he said.

Tigh removed his hat. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Gaeta, staring at the woman with wide eyes and a white face, his hands idly fondling her dog's ears. He looked guilty and scared, and Tom hoped like hell he stayed that way.

***

Felix didn't expect a warm welcome when he got back to the _Galactica_, so he wasn't surprised when the Marine assisting people off their Raptor turned his back and silently refused to help him. He wasn't shocked that Tigh wouldn't look him in the face, that a few people whispered and pointed, but that most ignored him. He knew that no one would greet him with a hug, or tell him they were glad he was safe. Even Skulls pulled away, because the evidence that he was a collaborator was written on him in shoes that didn't have holes and a jacket that didn't have patches.

But that didn't mean he didn't wish it could be different.

***

Tom waited to leave the Raptor. Ostensibly, it was because Cottle needed the help. But really, he just didn't want to speak to Gaeta. Not now, not after everything.

When he did disembark, the place was still chaos, although the wild chanting and applause had died down. A serviceman in an orange jumpsuit was calling out for all former military to report to their previous quarters. Another one was yelling for people who had previously been aboard various ships to report to different places on the hangar deck. Hastily lettered signs marked the points where people were meant to meet. Tom stood still, suddenly realizing that, unless Baltar was alive and in this throng (and probably still even then), he was not just Vice President, but President.

A realization that came storming home as Adama approached him. "Mr. Vice President," he said gravely, deliberately.

"Admiral." Tom summoned a smile. "I have to say it, I'm glad to see you."

"Good to see you, too," Adama said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know you've only just gotten on the ship, but I would like to speak with you immediately."

"Of course." Tom lifted his head up and made his way through the crowd. People were watching him warily, which didn't surprise him. Their administration hadn't been popular before the Cylons attacked, and judging by Laura's reaction in the trucks, his whereabouts for the occupation were not common knowledge.

Adama's quarters were rather spacious. Tom wondered how he'd justify that with the undeniable crunch on living space. "Water?" Adama offered, "something stronger?"

"Something stronger would be good," Tom admitted. Adama poured them each a whiskey and then sat down.

"There's a lot to be done, and I'm sure you're eager to get back to your ship and get to work," Adama said. "So we'll just get right to the point. Do you know if Gaius Baltar made it back up to the Fleet?"

"I honestly don't," Tom said, meeting Adama's eye. "I hope he didn't."

"Really."

"I spent the last four months in a Cylon detention cell because I refused to collaborate. I only escaped yesterday, after your men foiled an execution. The only reason I can think of to hope that Baltar isn't dead is because I wouldn't mind pushing the airlock button myself, although I'm not sure Laura Roslin would let me have the honor."

Adama's eyes sparked at that. "Roslin's alive?" he confirmed.

"As far as I know. Last I saw her she was running for _Colonial One._"

"Good. I am aware that you are the Vice President, and that means should anything happen to the President, that job title becomes yours."

"Yes, it does," Tom said, meeting his eye challengingly.

"However, in light of the ineffectiveness of Baltar's administration and your involvement with a known Cylon collaborator, I think it's best if you step down."

"What?" Tom set his drink down firmly. "_Baltar_ collaborated. I did not! I went back to _prison_ rather than work with the Cylons. And believe me, they made it extremely attractive." He pulled his hair back so Adama could see a half-healed scar above his ear. "Where do you get off telling me that I need to step down?"

"I am the Admiral of this Fleet," Bill said levelly.

"The Admiral who jumped away as soon as the Cylons landed and let our people suffer under them for four months!"

"You do not want to go down that path, Zarek," Adama warned, "or we can drop you right back on that rock that we just rescued you from."

It almost worked, but Tom gritted his teeth. "Oh, no you don't. You don't use my gratitude- because believe me, I feel it- to guilt me into stepping down. The Articles clearly state-"

"We need to do what's best for this Fleet. After the disaster that was Baltar's regime and the past four months, anyone associated in any way with Baltar is not what's best."

"Laura Roslin is what's best for this Fleet?" Tom sneered.

"Yes."

The thing was, although it wasn't legal, there was a truth to what Adama was saying, too, in what people's perceptions were. People needed a change, needed to erase Baltar from the memories. Suddenly, Tom felt very, very tired.

"And what would you do if I fought you on this?" he asked, more for the form of it.

"I'm sure there was something you did sometime on New Caprica that wasn't strictly legal," Adama said. "Right now, I don't care. If you fight me, I will."

"And you want to put in a woman who tried to steal the election?" Tom asked. "Not arguing," he said, holding up his hands as Adama's face got steely. "Just wondering at the way your mind works. Fine. I'll step down. But not like this."

"What do you mean?"

Tom considered it. "I will not allow you to so cavalierly override the Articles. We will go forward as if I intend to take the Presidency. I will swear in the Quorum, reform the basics… and then put Laura's name in as my Vice President. At that point, I will step down, saying that in the past few days I've found that my time in a Cylon detention center on New Caprica has made it difficult for me to concentrate on my duties. After all, a job as demanding as the Presidency is best filled by someone who has not suffered in that capacity."

Adama considered it. "Done," he said in a short, clipped tone. He stood up. "Mr. President…."

With his head held high and a sly smile on his lips, Tom left the quarters. He didn't allow himself to start shaking until the door slammed shut behind him.

***

"Mr. Gaeta? Is Gaeta in here?" Helo's voice rang out above the general babble, which fell silent as everyone processed the name. "Gaeta, are you in here?"

Felix came awake, rubbing at his eyes and pulling back the curtain of his rack. He had a feeling it was very telling that his rack was still available. "I'm here," he muttered, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was managing to watch him and act like they were ignoring him at the same time.

"The Admiral wants to see you," Helo told him.

Felix nodded and slid out of the bed and then pulled on the suit he'd taken off only hours before. He wished he had time to do something about his hair, which looked like a rabid poodle to his eyes, but there was nothing to be done for it. He slipped into his shoes and followed Helo out of the room, hoping he wouldn't come back to find his rack short-sheeted or studded with razors or something.

They walked in silence, and Felix cast about for a topic of conversation. Before he could think too deeply, he heard his mouth saying, "I heard you got married. Congratulations."

It should have been the right thing to say. But he could see Helo's speculation… Felix thought marrying a Cylon was a good thing. Oops.

"Thank you," Helo said, when the silence had stretched too long. He looked like he might say something else, but they'd reached the Admiral's quarters. Helo knocked, and then opened the door.

"Mr. Gaeta, sir," he said.

Admiral Adama physically looked the same as the last time that Felix saw him, but his face was so angry. Felix flashed back to his childhood and hiding under the bed because he _knew_ he wasn't supposed to touch his father's drafting tools and he'd broken one of them, and he was going to be in for it when his father got home. He shuddered and shook himself, beginning a salute and then aborting it. "Sir," he finally said, helplessly.

"Sit down, Mr. Gaeta." Felix obeyed. "I don't have a lot of time today, with everything that needs to be done. But what I do need to know is if you know of the whereabouts of Gaius Baltar."

Felix glanced at Helo, but Helo was standing with his arms crossed, face blank. "The last I saw him, sir, he was leaving _Colonial One_ with the Cylon they call Caprica Six. I… I assume he's either dead or still on the planet."

"When did you last see him?"

"Right before I went to the shipyard, sir. I was…" and he stopped, because what was he going to say? That he had Baltar under his gun and didn't shoot him, because he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this one last time Gaius could make things right?

"You were what, Mr. Gaeta?"

Felix swallowed. "I was getting _Colonial One_ ready for take-off, sir. As much as I could do without the launch key."

"And you got off _Colonial One_ and ran to a Raptor?"

"Yes, sir."

He could tell Admiral Adama didn't believe him, but at the same time he could tell that he didn't want to follow up on it right now, because it wasn't worth following up on. Adama looked down at his glass. "I've heard you remained as Baltar's Chief of Staff after the Cylons attacked?"

"Yes, sir. I… I thought it best."

"You thought it best?" Adama jumped in as Felix swallowed to wet his throat.

"Yes, sir. I thought that if I stayed in my position, I could gather information, pass it to others, I could…" he trailed off, because Adama's face didn't light with any recognition, didn't offer any hope.

"When things settle down, Mr. Gaeta, you and I are going to sit down and have a very long talk," Adama said. "I think you've told me what I need to know right now."

"Sir." Felix got to his feet, and followed Helo towards the door. But the words tore out of him before he could escape. "Sir? I know the _Galactica_ must have taken some hits during the battle. If you need me to help repair the communications systems…"

Adama's eyes pierced his soul again, and Felix met them. "Captain Agathon," Adama said, "Mr. Gaeta will be reporting to the CIC after he's reported to sickbay to be cleared for work."

"Yes, sir."

"Gentlemen." Helo left. "Mr. Gaeta?"

"Yes, sir?"

"When we have that talk, you'd better have an extremely good story to tell me," Adama said. "Otherwise, I'd be looking for a lawyer if I were you."

"Yes, sir."

He caught up with Helo. "Sickbay?" he asked.

"The Admiral wants everyone to have a cursory exam before returning to work," Helo said with a shrug. "People went through a lot."

"I know." Felix was silent for a moment. "He didn't believe me about passing information." It wasn't a question, and Helo didn't treat it as such. "Do you?"

Helo stopped. "Look," he said, "maybe you did. If you could answer a few questions, I'd believe it. But Gaeta, every single person who worked in Baltar's administration is going to be passing off the same story. We've already heard three people say the same thing."

"Oh," Felix said, hope draining out of him as he saw the path he was going to be taking. "Oh, frak."

"Look," Helo said, and for a moment Felix saw sympathy flare in his eyes, "worse comes to worse, you'll go on trial, and they'll be able to ferret it out. If you did pass the information, it will all come out, and people will understand. And if you didn't…" he shrugged, and then turned and walked away towards the CIC.

With a sigh, Felix headed towards sickbay.

***

His meeting with Roslin went far better than the one with Adama, and indeed, far better than Tom had expected. But then, Laura had seen him on the trucks, she knew that he was telling the truth and what he'd paid.

A price, he might add, he never should have had to pay.

Now that he was safe on _Colonial One_, back in his old office, he could afford to be angry. He could let the emotions rise up in him and threaten to suffocate him, let his mind realize the horror, not only of his long days of prison and torture but of what every human being had to go through on that planet.

And now, it was time for the people who did deserve it to pay.

There was a discreet knock on his door. He scrubbed his face with his hands, smoothed his hair, and sat back, composed and collected. "Come in, Tory," he called.

***

"So this is the list we have of the New Caprica Police," Tory said, pulling it out. "It's over two hundred people."

"Let's go through it and find the worst, Tory." Tom looked at the list, shuddering. "And by worst I mean people who killed or contributed directly to the deaths of others. I don't like it, but I can understand people collaborating to protect their families, or even to protect themselves. And they'll forever have to live with what they did, knowing that they gave away a part of their humanity. But the ones who killed their own… they're the ones that are the traitors."

Tory nodded. "I've already got Bob and Jane collecting some witness testimony," she said. "And you have the commendations." She pulled those out of the stack that she'd brought with her. "What about Baltar's administration?"

Tom ground his teeth together, the gun pressed against his back again as he was marched off to the Astral Queen. "Put them on the list," he said. "There's no excuse."

Tory eyed him respectfully, and then nodded. And then she began to write.

***

"Seventy one names," she said, hours later. "Seventy one."

"It's a good number," Tom said. "I think that will be the worst of the worst, the ones who most deserve to die for their crimes. Get it over, get it done, get it off Laura's hands…"

_And on to mine._ Laura wasn't the one who deserved revenge, not like this. Laura had been betrayed, but no more than the rest of them. Tom was the one who'd paid. And when he picked his jury, he'd make sure they'd all paid a higher price than most, too.

***

"Mr. President?" Tory said, knocking on the door. "I have the… the papers."

"Thank you. Put them here, I'll sign them."

"Yes, sir."

She left the room, and he began to work through them. He read each one and then signed at the bottom, completely cognizant of what he was doing, who he was sentencing to death. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy, but it was justice, plain and simple. Quiet justice, but justice all the same.

Stroud. Martin. Dodson. Johr. Trinh. Ali. Inish. Westerfeld. Weis. Gray. Pullman. Alexander. Lyman. Chadwick. Gaeta.

Gaeta.

He hesitated, his pen above the space where he should sign. The charges were collaborating with the enemy and crimes against humanity. He closed his eyes, cold wind on his face and the smell of Laura Roslin's joints in the air, brown eyes in front of him, asking for advice. The memories shattered into pieces, because if anyone should have resisted, if anyone should have died for his convictions, it was Gaeta.

With a signature bolder than for any of the others, Tom signed the death warrant.

***

Felix managed to walk out of the airlock and down the hall, and then he collapsed, his legs no longer able to support him because he was shaking so hard. He pushed himself back against the wall, hidden between boxes, out of sight and out of the way of any other people bent on vengeance.

He buried his face between his knees, wishing the darkness could swallow him. Even though they hadn't hit the release, he felt like they had, and a part of him had gone hurtling out to space.

Starbuck's insults didn't bother him. He'd never liked Starbuck, and she'd never liked him. Not really. And even Tigh… but Galen.

_Galen should have known._

If Galen was the one getting those messages, why hadn't it occurred to him? Why hadn't he figured out that if someone from Baltar's administration gave him _frakking jamming frequencies_ that maybe, just maybe it was Felix Gaeta, former officer of the watch? He and Cally had been considering naming him _godfather_ to Nicky, for crying out loud. And yet-

"So they finally figured it out."

Felix looked up to see Doc Cottle sitting on a box, smoking a cigarette. "What?"

Cottle extended a cigarette, and Felix took it with a shaking hand. "Seelix came to see me just now," Cottle said in tones that passed for extreme kindness for him. "She told me what happened. Said you might need medical treatment."

"No. I don't think so." Felix took a drag on the cigarette and then began to cough. His side was extremely sore, and it felt like someone stabbing him when he breathed deeply.

Good.

Cottle stood up slowly and extended a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you back to sickbay."

Felix got to his feet and stumbled; his legs had fallen asleep. "What time is it?" he asked.

"It took me a good hour to find you, if that's what you're asking," Cottle answered. "I'm not a psychologist."

"You said…" Felix began, walking haltingly. Cottle walked right next to him, giving him a shoulder to lean on. "You said they finally figured it out?" he managed. "You knew?"

"No one told me," Cottle said, "and I didn't ask. But when we got off that planet, I figured there must have been help from the inside. There's no way we had the firepower to do it any other way. And who else made sense?"

Felix closed his eyes, because Cottle was not the sort of person you cried in front of. "The doctor," he said finally. "The doctor that died in the Raptor. Who was she?"

"Her name was Adrienne Reynolds."

"Do you have a picture of her?"

"I'm sure there's one somewhere. Why?"

Felix swallowed. "Unless someone else has done it, I want to make sure she gets put up in the Memorial Hall. She's the one who helped me set it up."

Cottle looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

***

Cottle was wrapping a bandage around Felix's torso when Admiral Adama walked in. "Well?" Adama asked.

"Hairline fracture to the ribs, a few bruises and scrapes. Nothing time and rest won't cure," Cottle said significantly. He finished and attached the bandage. "Leave that on except when you're showering. If you need help getting it back on, come down and someone will help you. And see Yolen about three days worth of painkillers on your way out. I'll give him the prescription."

"Yes, sir," Felix said.

"Admiral." Cottle slipped out of the cubicle, but somehow, Felix had the sense he hadn't gone far. Adama handed him his shirt, and he pulled it on gratefully.

"Saul Tigh and Galen Tyrol came to see me," he said. "I guess we should have had that talk sooner." Felix wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just stayed silent. "I want you to know, Mr. Gaeta, that what happened was in no way sanctioned by myself or by President Roslin. After we received another report of a missing person, we confronted Tom Zarek, and this is his doing."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Felix said before he could stop it. He sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just that the… Vice President?"

"Vice President is apparently the correct title," Adama said, not hiding his displeasure. "It's all right. The President mentioned you would be upset by that." A distant part of Felix's mind was amused by the fact Adama had already reinstated Roslin as President. But he knew better than to say anything. "But we greatly underestimated you, Lieutenant Gaeta, and I owe you an apology."

"Thank you, sir." Then the rank hit him. "Sir?"

"I'll expect you to resume your duties as soon as you are able. Congratulations, Lieutenant." Adama saluted.

Stunned and pathetically grateful, Felix saluted back.

***

"Mr. Vice President?"

Tom stood up from his desk. "Madame President," he said, still stiff and formal.

Laura smiled. "You're not happy with me."

"Not entirely, no." He sat back down and sighed. "Intellectually, I understand why you did it, why you pardoned everyone. But in my gut, I can't let it go."

Laura sat down as well, and pulled out a photograph from her pocket. "I understand that, Tom. You may not believe it, but I do." She tapped the picture against her palm. "You know, I've been thinking about it a lot this afternoon. Billy's been dead for over a year, but I wondered how I would felt if we'd been down on that hellhole and he'd collaborated. And first I thought I might forgive him, but then I thought no. His sin would be so much worse because he should know better. He should be better than that."

"Where are you going with this?" Tom asked, but he knew. And he was right. Laura put the picture down on his desk. It was one that was taken on New Caprica on Founder's Day, of him and Gaeta standing together. "I don't want this," he said, pushing it back.

"You might, after you hear what I have to say. I saw Adama this morning. Felix Gaeta was tried and convicted by the Circle. He was sentenced to death for crimes against humanity and collaborating with the enemy. And believe me, Tom, I hoped Adama was going to tell me they flushed him out the airlock." She smiled, but her smile was twisted and bitter. "But then he told me that Gaeta had been gathering information from the Cylons and passing it to the Resistance. He got us the coordinates for the map system, information on positions and internal organization, security plans…" she shook her head. "But most importantly to humanity, he was the one who provided us with the jamming frequencies that allowed us to make contact with _Galactica._. And most importantly to you and me, he's the one who got news to Chief Tyrol about the death lists, information that allowed them to stop our execution."

The blood drained from Tom's face, and he was sure his limbs had frozen. "No," he whispered. "It can't be… you're wrong."

"Adama is quite sure that he's right." Laura pushed the picture back over to Tom. "I'll leave you to yourself, Tom," she said, touching his shoulder with surprising sympathy.

He sat on for hours, staring at the picture in front of him.  



	6. Chapter 6

When he stepped onto _Colonial One_, Felix's knees nearly gave out beneath him. But Helo and Adama were climbing out of the Raptor behind him, and Skulls and Racetrack were watching as well. He was _not_ going to do something stupid right now. He held himself stiff, resorting to military posture as he waited for the Admiral to pass him. Admiral Adama cocked an eyebrow, but Felix kept his face impassive and Adama moved on. Felix fell into step beside Helo.

"We'll meet you back at the Raptor when we're done?" Helo asked quietly.

"Sure," Felix said distantly. Funny. The walkways hadn't changed, but they felt different. But even though he was positive that Roslin had removed anything that Baltar had so much as touched, Gaius's specter lingered. And so did the ghosts of the Cylons.

They reached the Vice President's office and Felix stopped. Adama nodded to him and continued on, but Helo awkwardly clapped his shoulder before he followed in the Admiral's footsteps. Felix watched them go, then straightened his uniform, straightened his posture, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

He opened the door and stopped for a heartbeat, because except for a few brief moments during the Exodus, they hadn't seen each other since the day the Cylons invaded. Felix had come grudgingly to this meeting, prepared to be formal and angry and bitter. He hadn't expected the remembered warmth that swelled up inside him when he and Tom Zarek were face to face again. He saluted to cover his confusion.

"Lieutenant Gaeta, sir, reporting as ordered."

"Have a seat," Zarek said, and Felix obeyed. "I know," Zarek began, "that you didn't want to come here today. I don't blame you." He grinned. "Or maybe you did, because you'll never get another opportunity to spit in my face."

Felix didn't say anything. Instead, he looked around the office. It was much the same as he remembered it, cluttered with papers and charts, lists tabbed to memo boards, decent furniture and a stained coffee mug.

"Well, you must be thinking something," Zarek said. "Feel free to say it."

"I'm not sure I want to risk being tossed out the airlock afterwards," Felix said.

"Well, that's a start." Zarek sat back. "Have you seen tomorrow's paper?"

"Not yet, with it not being tomorrow."

Zarek raised an eyebrow at his tone, but pushed the paper across the desk. Felix assumed that Zarek wasn't referring to the headlines discussing Roslin's presidency and the survivor count. He opened the paper, and there it was, the first of Roslin's Committee on Truth and Reconciliation stories… and his picture, along with one of Adrienne Reynolds and one of a family he didn't know.

He'd known they were going to run the story- he'd given the interview. Partly because Adama had insisted, and partly for his own safety and comfort. But seeing it here in black and white… seeing himself being called a hero… he shut the paper without more than a cursory glance.

"You're not comfortable seeing that," Zarek observed.

Felix felt like he was being dissected and analyzed, and realized he probably was. "You knew I wouldn't be."

"I thought so, anyway." Zarek opened the paper back up. "When I read this story, do you know what bothered me?"

"What?"

"When I formed a jury, I intended that they would examine the evidence, that they would reach an informed conclusion. That each accused collaborator would get a jury of their peers, as is dictated by the Articles. They weren't there to gain vengeance, but to deliver justice in a manner that would least disturb the Fleet. But they failed. They failed me, and they failed you."

Zarek ran a hand through his hair, and as he did Felix caught sight of an angry red scar right above his ear. For a moment, he wondered if the gesture had been calculated, but then he spotted another on Zarek's neck, and a third on the back of his hand. The half-healed scars twisted something rooted deeply within him.

"I wanted to get you out," Felix said miserably. "I tried."

Zarek blinked. "That's not why we're here. That's never… of all the things I held you responsible for, that wasn't on the list." He picked up the paper again. "Tigh and Tyrol told me you didn't fight when you were convicted."

"There was no point. They'd already made up their minds." Felix was about to stand and leave regardless of what Zarek said next, but that was when he saw it.

It was down on the corner of a memo board, unframed and a little wrinkled. But there it was, a picture of the two of them standing together on Founder's Day, smiling into the sun of New Caprica. He'd never seen it in this office before the Cylons, and Cavil had used the office during the occupation. The picture had been put there recently.

Zarek met his eyes, and suddenly, breakingly, Felix knew what he was trying to say, and what he had really come here to say. _I'm sorry. I let you down, I failed you, I should have done more. I'm sorry._ They sat in taut silence, both unsure of their own words.

Finally, Felix shook his head. "I should get back to the Raptor soon," he said, although he figured he probably had an hour or two.

Zarek sighed. "All right." He stood up and extended his hand. After a second's hesitation, Felix shook it. "Take care," Zarek said awkwardly.

"You too." He turned to leave.

"Felix?" Tom said as his hand was on the door, "I'm proud of you."

Hot tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them back furiously. "Thank you, sir," he said. He opened the door and made his way back to the Raptor, not wanting to face anyone.

***

Tom was still sitting at his desk staring at the newspaper when Jacob Cantrell arrived. "Mr. Vice President?"

"Delegate. Come on in."

Cantrell entered and sat down. "I see the Admiral is here meeting with the President," he said neutrally.

Tom snorted. "Him and his toaster-loving XO."

"What about?"

"They didn't tell me," Zarek sighed, and then chuckled. "I feel like a little kid again. 'Mommy, Billy doesn't tell me anything.'" He set aside the paper.

"Have you thought about getting a military liaison?"

"Of course," Tom said, "but getting a formal one would be useless. They'd only tell me what Adama wants me to hear, and he'll tell me that himself. In fact, they'd be able to cut me out _more_, because Adama would send his flunky to communicate with me."

"Good point." Cantrell reached for the paper. "Is this today's?"

"No. It's tomorrow's. I have a deal with the publisher."

"That explains a lot," Cantrell laughed. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Tom watched his face carefully as Cantrell glanced over the open page, and then read it more slowly. "Did I just see him in the hall?" Cantrell asked, pointing to Gaeta's picture.

"You did."

"Someone who could do this- who could sneak information from right under the Cylons' noses- that sort of person could be very useful."

Tom sighed heavily. "That's the idea." He rubbed his temples. "It will take time and tact, but I think eventually he'll help me willingly."

"You don't look so pleased about it," Cantrell observed.

"I'm not," Tom confessed. "There was a time I thought…" he shook his head and began again. "He's not someone I want to put in this position. But Roslin and Adama have left me with very few pawns to play. I don't have many options."

"At least it will be something," Cantrell said, folding the paper and putting it back on Tom's desk. "And these days, that's everything."

***

Felix never thought he'd be uncertain knocking on Dee's door, but Dee's door had never been private quarters or shared with a major, either. And since the Exodus, he'd only seen her in passing. But when Dee opened the door, her hug was warm and her smile was bright.

"Hey," she said, and his throat closed at her warmth.

"Hey," he managed. "Nice place."

"Rank has its privileges, I suppose. Come on in."

He came in and Dee handed him a glass of wine. "How've you been?" she asked him.

"Desperately in need of this." He held up his glass as he sat down.

"Oh? How was your meeting with his grand and exalted Vice President?"

He hadn't told her about the Circle, but judging by her bitter tone, someone else had. He sighed. "It was… it was fine, Dee. He didn't try to shove me out the airlock or in front of a firing squad, okay?"

Dee made a face. "Next you're going to tell me the two of you sat around sharing drinks and talking about old times."

He twirled the stem of the glass, staring at the liquid inside. "He tried to apologize, I think."

"As well he should," Dee said angrily.

"Yeah."

Dee raised her eyebrows. "That wasn't very convincing."

Felix sighed. "Look, I've been thinking about it, or trying not to think about it. But he said something that made sense, and he was right. He's not the one that almost killed me."

"Felix, he signed your execution order."

"He signed my execution order _if I was found guilty._ What Zarek did was put me on trial and give the jury the authority to carry out a sentence. Dee, if Roslin hadn't pardoned everyone, and if I'd gone on trial and been found guilty, I would have been executed anyway."

Dee studied his face. "Oh, no."

"Oh no what?"

"Oh no. Felix, come on. Not another Baltar!"

He closed his eyes, because even just the name was like briars being dragged over his raw soul. "I'm not in love with Zarek."

"No, but somewhere on New Caprica you decided he was a good guy, and now you're completely blind."

"It's not like that." She looked at him skeptically. "Really, Dee, it's not, okay? I'm just tired."

His voice sounded pathetic to his ears when he said that, but there must have been something in it that melted female hearts. Dee's face softened. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I know I haven't seen you much since the Exodus…"

"You've been busy," he said simply. "There hasn't been time for anyone to socialize much. I've been working round the clock anyway."

"Some things never change," Dee said, sipping her wine.

He nodded, but all he could think was how very much everything had.

***

The charts were spread across the conference table and pinned on the walls, and the blue uniforms of the military personnel seemed like accent notes to the ordered drawings. "So you see," President Roslin finished, "we have a clear idea of where we are going. Are there any questions?"

"I have several," Tom said, raising his hand. "But they're just scientific in nature. I don't want to waste the Quorum's time, but I'd like a more detailed explanation."

Roslin glanced at Adama, who nodded. "Lieutenant Gaeta," he said. "Please see to that after we're done here."

"Yes, sir." Gaeta had been standing at parade rest after his talk, but when his eyes met Tom's, he flashed a quick smile. Tom grinned back. It had taken two months of accidental meetings, quick drinks, and questions he already knew the answers to in order to get that smile.

After the meeting adjourned and Laura had retreated into her own office with the Admiral, Tom nodded to Gaeta and they headed to his office, side by side.

"Science has never been my strong point, especially astronomy," Tom admitted. "I really appreciate you explaining this to me."

"Not content to take the President's word?" Felix asked lightly.

Tom chuckled bitterly. "No, it's not so much that, believe it or not. I do trust her. But I honestly would like to understand this all better. It gives me hope that Earth's not just a pipe dream."

"I know the feeling," Felix said. "After New Caprica…" his voice touched on the words gingerly, like touching an unhealed wound. He shook his head. "This is different, though." He looked pensive for a moment. "You know," he said slowly, "I actually called Baltar 'President Baltar' the other day. I know it's just a reflex, but still…."

"I've done the same thing," Tom said. "Not 'President', but every now and then I find my mind thinking 'Gaius.'"

Felix made a face, and Tom was quite sure that he'd done that in his own mind many times, although that was probably more understandable, given their relationship. "The only thing is," Felix said, "I did it in front of Roslin."

Tom stopped, and then cracked up. "Oh, I'll bet she didn't like that," he chortled.

Felix grinned abashedly. "Not really," he said, "but she was very gracious about it."

"She would be," Tom said, still laughing. "Laura is a very graceful woman."

"Need a jacket, Mr. Vice President?"

"Funny." Tom opened the door to his office and they both went inside. "Okay. Remedial astronomy, here we go."

They worked for a solid hour; this time, Tom hadn't been lying about his lack of expertise, or his motivations. By the time they finished he felt like he understood it, but they still had fifteen minutes before the Raptor was scheduled to leave _Colonial One_ and return back to _Galactica._

"Are you on watch after this?" Tom asked, leaning back and pouring them both a glass of water.

Felix nodded. "A few refuelings are happening today, so at least it's a bit of a break in the routine. Well, a welcome break," he amended. "I can do without the Cylons finding us."

"So you're on watch, meeting with the civilian government, navigating our way to Earth, and deciphering Baltar's research?" Tom asked incredulously.

Felix shrugged. "It's not like I have much of a social life anyway. Even when I do have free time, I seem to spend half of it trying to beat Baltar's high score in Questos on the lab computer."

"That's really pathetic. So all that work and you're still a lieutenant?" he asked.

"Well, it's not that simple." Felix began to outline the criteria for promotion in the military, and Tom listened with a sympathetic face. He'd fully expected the diatribe, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that maybe, late at night, Felix Gaeta would turn the question over in his mind, and he'd think how Adama overlooked him, but Zarek had realized his worth. And that could only help him.

***

Felix didn't like going to the Memorial Hall. He kept his pictures of his parents in his rack and did his mourning there, in private. But he'd finally found a picture of George Alan, an engineer who'd been among the hundred and five killed by Doral's firing squad. He'd found it right before the meeting with the Four, when he'd told them about Baltar. Funny that he'd find it today, of all days, and perhaps appropriate. He padded quietly through the Hall, slipping past the few mourners until he found the little section he was building.

He'd never labeled it, but a few others had caught on, and before he knew it, everyone knew this was New Caprica.

He put George Alan's picture up, and then lit the candle and stared at the faces. He couldn't pray- deep down he'd never believed it did any good anyway, although sometimes he went through the motions- but he could let those faces penetrate his soul.

He'd thought Baltar was dead, but he wasn't. And he was alive- these people's killer was alive- because he'd let him go. He could have gotten vengeance for all of these people, and he hadn't, because his heart was too soft and he'd wanted so desperately to believe in the man he'd loved.

"Self-flagellation isn't overly healthy."

"I know," Felix said simply.

Tom put a hand on his shoulder. "I was wondering if you were all right. I'm guessing the answer is no."

"I'm fine," Felix said distantly. "I found the ninety-first one today. I only have fourteen more to find."

Tom looked at the display. "There are more than ninety one people here," he said. "Did you put them all up?"

"No. But I put up a few more, like Jammer." He pointed out the picture. "James Lyman."

"He was killed by the Circle," Tom said slowly.

"I know." Felix cocked his head and studied the picture. "He did some terrible things on New Caprica. I saw that before you did. But he also made choices he should never have had to make. Do you know how old he was on New Caprica? Twenty five."

"You were twenty seven and you made better choices."

Something about those words shafted through everything. They shattered the ice and pushed aside the guilt and plunged straight into his heart, piercing memories of late nights and early mornings, warmth and closeness and laughter and sex. Everything he'd been holding at bay, from the first time Gaius had come aboard _Galactica_ to late nights in the lab, to the taste of his lips and humiliation and hate and the feel of a gun in his hand… it all came crashing down. His eyes burned, and he blinked furiously. "No," he whispered, "I didn't."

Tom smiled grimly. "No, I guess you didn't," he agreed, and they stood looking at the pictures in silence.

***

The news that Baltar was alive didn't shake Tom as deeply as he thought it would, although it certainly made him grind his teeth. But Baltar was cozied up on some Cylon basestar, hopefully lightyears away, and the people of the Fleet and their problems were here and immediate. Days passed when Tom forgot about it all together, although when he did think about it he suspected the knowledge was haunting others. That theory was confirmed one night by someone shaking his shoulder.

"Tom? Tom… Tom, wake up."

Tom rubbed his eyes and blinked them, clearing them enough to see Laura Roslin over his bed. "I must be dreaming," he said, sitting up and letting the covers fall around his waist. "But my dreams are never this good."

Laura ignored him. "I'm sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, Mr. Vice President, but I assure you it's extremely urgent."

He yawned and reached for his shirt. "It must be if you're waking me up instead of sending a flunky to do it," he observed.

"It's a matter that requires the utmost of discretion," Laura said. She picked up his pants and handed them to him as he slid out of bed. "I didn't trust anyone else with this information yet."

"That doesn't sound good. What happened?" He found his shoes and managed to get them on the right feet, and looked around hopefully. Laura rolled her eyes and handed him the thermos of coffee. "I am predictable, aren't I?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Come on," she said impatiently.

She let him drink his coffee on the Raptor. Given the speed with which they docked on _Galactica_, Tom had the feeling that she'd been here previously, and left specifically to get him. His suspicion was confirmed when she led him straight to Admiral Adama's quarters, and he was greeted by the Admiral, Colonel Tigh, and Doc Cottle.

"What's going on?" he asked. For one wild moment he was afraid he'd done something they disapproved of and was being sent to the brig, but there was nothing he could think of that might have given them grounds.

"It's Baltar," Adama said.

"Baltar?"

"Yes," Laura sighed. "He's here. On the ship. I apologize for not telling you sooner, Tom," she said when he opened his mouth to berate her about that very crime, "but we've been keeping the information as quiet as possible."

"I'm the Vice President of this Fleet," he muttered. "I'd say I'm pretty high on the need-to-know list."

Tigh glowered like a loyal pit bull, but Adama ignored his XO. "You know now," he said shortly.

"All right. I'm assuming you didn't pull me out of bed in the middle of the night just to tell me he's here. What happened."

"Chief Tyrol captured Baltar and brought him on board when we came up from the planet," Adama began.

"That was two weeks ago!" Tom protested.

Adama glared. "Prior to that, he was on a Cylon basestar," he continued as if Tom hadn't interrupted. Tom caught the hint and stayed quiet. Laura had told him that much, at least, as had Felix. "We've tried to interrogate him since his capture. We've used a variety of methods, with limited success."

Tom hazarded a guess. "And you want me to try?"

Adama and Laura exchanged glances, and to Tom's surprise, it was Cottle that cleared his throat.

"The last method we tried was getting someone he trusted to question him," he said. "It didn't go as well as we might have hoped."

Tom rubbed his forehead, already knowing the answer. "Who did you use?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Gaeta," Adama answered.

The idiots. The blind, incompetent idiots. Tom wanted to shake them and ask what had possessed them to come up with such a stupid plan, but he sensed that wasn't going to get him very far. "And what happened?" he asked. "Which one of them tried to kill the other?"

"Show him the footage from the security camera," Adama ordered.

***

Felix was laying on the bunk in the brig, but despite the sedative, he wasn't asleep. At the Admiral's nod the guard let Tom in, and then they all retreated out of the cell.

"What's going on?" Felix asked, rubbing his eyes like an overgrown sleepy child.

"So, I see you decided that the pen was mightier than the sword," Tom couldn't resist saying. Felix didn't smile, but he did sit up. "What happened?" Tom asked, sitting down on the floor.

Felix slid off the bed and sat down beside him. "I can't believe they thought I'd be able to do it," he said, and Tom realized whatever the sedative was, it was making him extremely loopy. "I can't believe they thought I could fool Baltar. When have I ever been able to fool Baltar? He's always seen straight through me."

"The Admiral wants to know what he said to you that set you off."

Felix shook his head. "I'm not telling him. He can keep me in the brig if he wants to, but I'm not telling him."

"Baltar said he'd keep it secret," Tom pressed. "He was blackmailing you. If we know what it is, we could protect you."

Felix shrugged.

Tom tried to think of what it could be. It certainly wasn't anything underhanded. Tom would have known if Felix had done something like that, and Baltar would have a hard time getting Adama and Roslin to believe it. He'd seen the protestation that Gaius had allowed Felix to pass information and that could be damaging, but he'd made that claim out loud. It certainly wasn't that Felix was homosexual; aside form a few Sagittarons and Gemenese, no one would care. And even that he was _Baltar's_ lover…

Suddenly, it hit him. "You slept with Baltar during the occupation, didn't you?" he said quietly. Felix buried his face in his arms, and Tom knew he was right. "And I'm guessing he had some nasty names for you for it, didn't- wait. No. Oh, _Felix_…." And suddenly it put itself together, Baltar claiming he'd allowed the information to pass and Felix sleeping with him, despite working to undermine Baltar, despite helping to arrange assassination attempts… Somehow, even if it hadn't been explicit, Felix had managed to sell himself.

"Oh, Gods," Tom breathed, and he understood. It wasn't anything Felix could be convicted on, but it was damning. If not in any official capacity, at least in himself.

"It's not just that," he heard Felix whisper. "He said he knew… he'd known what I was doing the whole time. And that I wanted to think I was doing it to save myself, but I was doing it because I was too weak to let go, and that's why I didn't shoot him."

Tom froze. "You didn't shoot him?" he asked carefully.

"I had him under my gun, and I didn't shoot him."

_That_ was a story Tom was fairly sure no one knew. And _that_ was a story people would care about.

"I don't want to tell the Admiral," Felix was saying. "I don't want him to know. I've let him down so badly already, and I know that if he knows…"

"Don't worry," Tom said. "I'll get you off, but I won't tell him."

Felix looked at him gratefully, and for a moment, Tom hated himself. Not for lying to Adama; that came as easily as breathing, especially over something like this. But for thinking that now, should he ever need it, he had something on Felix Gaeta, something no one else knew. He hoped he would never have to use it, but if he did, it was there.

***

"Tom?" Laura asked as they walked back to the Raptor.

"Yes?"

"You said that Baltar was going to implicate Gaeta in the Temple massacres."

"Yes. That's what Gaeta said he threatened. Why?"

"It doesn't add up," Laura said. "Gaeta doesn't like Sagittarons better than anyone else, but he works with you, and he's always been good friends with Lieutenant Dualla. He clearly doesn't blindly hate them. Baltar is a very intelligent man. How would he think that we'd believe that Gaeta would engineer a massacre based solely on religious beliefs?"

"He's been out of the Fleet for a while," Tom said easily. "He can make guesses with excellent accuracy, but he's intelligent, not clairvoyant. He probably assumed that Gaeta's reputation was still not stellar and there would be people willing to believe the worst about him. Maybe he just wanted to cause chaos."

"Mmm." Laura looked down at the file she was carrying. "I think you're lying."

"Oh?"

"Whatever Baltar said, it invoked a very… passionate and personal reaction from Mr. Gaeta. It seemed like it must have been something more personal."

Tom sighed. "It _was_ personal, Laura," he said. "That's why I gave you the Saggitaron thing to tell the Admiral."

"I have a hard time believing that you aren't holding it back to undermine the Fleet." But she smiled a little as she said that, and Tom realized she was joking. Half-joking, anyway.

"Laura, believe me. There was nothing in that threat that would in any way harm the Fleet, or even demands justice. It would only do personal harm to Mr. Gaeta."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "And I thought Bill had his favorites."

Tom didn't have a good answer for that.

***

Joe's was as close to deserted as it ever was, which was to say it was only half full and there were actually a few tables available. They managed to get one in a corner, and both of them where two drinks in before they said anything.

"Long day," Tom said finally.

"Understatement," Felix agreed, finishing his third ambrosia. He slammed it down and followed it up quickly with a chaser, disappointed that the fire that spread through his throat and chest was already starting to lessen. "Aside from the Cylon attack, the reappearance of someone we thought _dead_, and the general upheaval of the Fleet, I can't believe Baltar got off."

"I'm just glad it's over," Tom said. "But I'm sure as hell not happy he's out there."

"No one is," Felix muttered. "Bets on how long it takes someone to kill him?"

"That's morbid."

"Yeah, well, I already tried," Felix counted on his fingers, "four times. I guess someone else should take a turn- they might have better luck."

"Four times?" Tom asked.

"Or something like that," Felix temporized, but Tom smiled.

"I can't say I blame you," he said, and before Felix knew what was happening, Tom reached out and ruffled his hair. He tried to duck away for the form of it, but he failed because some part of him was ridiculously pleased at the gesture.

"You're drunk," he said as dryly as he could.

"Not yet," Tom said, "but I intend to be. Sort of like old times, isn't it?"

Felix nodded. "Although funny that we're calling New Caprica 'old times'."

"It had its moments," Tom said, and then looked away. And Felix had to look down at the table as well, because there was a point when they'd both believed in it, and New Caprica had had more than moments. "I don't suppose you'd consider coming back to the civilian government," Tom said finally.

"What do you mean?"

"If you ever wanted to, I'd hire you on to my staff in a second."

Felix thought about it for a second and then shook his head. "I'm definitely needed here," he said. "There's no way the Admiral would approve me mustering to be on staff to the Vice President."

"Or to me in general," Tom muttered.

"True enough." Felix sipped his drink thoughtfully. "But… it sounds like you might one day be President." Tom nodded grimly. "If that happens…" and he trailed off, because he hadn't meant it to sound so… so calculated and cold-hearted, but that was how it came out.

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Tom said, "but you're right that it may. And if I'm President, you're Chief of Staff," he said, extending his hand. Felix took it. "And this time, we'll get it right."

***

Felix was used to reporting to the Admiral, but some instinct told him that this time was different. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Adama looked up from his writing. "Mr. Gaeta," he said with a ghost of a smile.

Felix saluted. "Sir."

"Have a seat." Admiral Adama gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and Felix obeyed. "I'm putting together a mission," Adama said.

"What kind of mission, sir?"

"An exploratory one. For the most part, I'm having Helo pick the crew, but in your case…"

"Is this really good or really bad, sir?"

Adama grinned, but the grin faded quickly. "Captain Thrace is certain she knows how to get to Earth. I'm giving her a chance to find it."

Felix's stomach dropped. "Sir, I-"

"You know more about the technical aspects of the search for Earth than anyone else in the Fleet. You will be helping Captain Thrace navigate the _Demetrius_."

Felix ground his teeth, but managed to keep his voice expressionless as he said, "Yes, sir."

"I also want you to go over the data you have with Lieutenant Hoshi before you leave."

"Yes, sir." That came much easier.

Adama handed him a folder. "Here's the mission file. Read it and make sure a copy gets distributed to the President."

"Yes, sir. Is that all?"

"I believe so." Felix stood and saluted, but as he turned to leave, Adama said, "Oh, one more thing, Mr. Gaeta." Felix paused. "I'm aware that you have a personal issue with Captain Thrace. I'm very aware of the nature, and I'm not saying that I don't understand, or that it's not justified. But get over it."

Felix nodded and slipped out of the room.

***

"Sir?"

Tom looked up to see Felix standing in the doorway, formal in his dress blues and strain written across his face. "Felix. What can I do for you?"

"I came to say goodbye," Felix said, not moving from the doorway. Tom put his pen down slowly.

"Goodbye?" he asked. "Are you going somewhere? Hitching a Raptor to the nearest habitable planet?"

"I've been assigned to a mission for three months," Felix said. He came in and closed the door, and then handed Tom a file marked _classified_. Tom looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

"What's this?"

"It's the mission file. I know they've been keeping you out of the loop, but you ought to know what's been going on- especially when it's this big. Especially if something happens to President Roslin."

Tom looked at the file with a mixture of triumph and sadness. "Thank you," he said, opening it. "Thank you," he repeated, because as he read the details he knew that Laura Roslin would be keeping this very quiet. Even if she did tell him, it would be good to know the details in advance. He looked up at Felix again. Felix was still standing just inside the door, clenched and angry. "I take it you're not happy about the mission." He looked to see what he'd missed, and then noticed the name. "Kara Thrace. She's the one that was-"

"Dead, but I never liked her before that."

Tom would have had to been stupid not to remember the name. "She was in the Circle when they convicted you," he said quietly.

Felix made a face. "It wasn't that she was in the Circle," he said. "It was that she still wanted to throw me out the airlock after Chief told her what I'd done. And Adama knows it." His expression was hard and angry, and Tom knew that was a grudge that the young man was never, ever going to let go. Not that he really blamed him. But Felix pushed it away, and extended his hand. "But I just figured… I'll be gone for sixty days. I know I promised…."

Tom smiled as he shook his hand. "She'll still be around when you get back, Felix. She's a strong woman."

"I hope so," Felix said, and Tom knew he meant it.

"Good luck," Tom said as Felix turned to leave. "And stay safe."

"You, too, sir." He left.

Tom looked at the mission file again. He had a feeling it was going to be a long three months for both of them, and he hoped like hell Kara Thrace was right.

***

"Mr. Vice President?" Lee Adama looked very tired, Tom thought. But then, who didn't these days?

"Come on in," Tom said, indicating the chair. "I hear the _Demetrius_ returned."

"Yeah," Lee said, "complete with a damaged basestar and a group of rebel Cylons."

"It's going to be hard to keep quiet on that subject with the basestar floating among the Fleet," Tom sighed. "Anyone with access to a window already knows, and anyone who doesn't has already been told. Where's the President?"

"I don't know," Lee said, clearly lying. Which probably meant she was receiving her diloxin treatments. Tom held his tongue on that one.

"You look far away," he remarked instead.

Lee sighed. "I went down to the sickbay to see Doc Cottle- I had some questions about the stores of medical supplies left. But one of the guys I used to work with on _Galactica_ was there- he'd just had his leg amputated."

"Ouch. Is he going to live?"

"I think so, although it sounds like it wasn't so certain a bit earlier. Apparently, it happened on the _Demetrius_ mission."

"Cylon?"

"Accident, I heard."

"Not so sure I believe in accidents when guns are involved," Tom said.

"Me, either. But Gaeta won't be able to-"

Tom froze. "Wait, Gaeta?" he asked through numb lips. "Gaeta was shot?"

"Yeah. They hadn't released the name yet but everyone on _Galactica_ knows and- oh, that's right. You knew him from New Caprica, didn't you?" Tom nodded, and Lee paused for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. Then he pulled out the papers he'd brought with him. "I really dropped by to discuss details of the military operation. I think I can shed some light on the language in some of them."

"Excellent," Tom said, pulling the papers towards him. "But somehow I doubt we'll have a significantly clearer idea of what's going on afterwards." But even as he knew the work was essential to the people he represented, he found himself glancing at the clock, and knowing exactly where he was going as soon as he had a few free hours.

But Lee didn't leave for several hours, and there was still a meeting with a few delegates and meetings with ships' captains. Tom finally thought he might get away when a Marine came knocking on his door.

"Mr. Vice President," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude, but they're looking everywhere for you. The basestar has jumped away from the Fleet, and President Roslin is on board."

***

"Well?" Cantrell asked.

"He's still not taking my calls," Tom fumed. "This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. The Articles clearly state that I am President at this time. There is simply no argument about it, it's right there in black and white. It couldn't be any clearer!"

"What about Lee Adama? Can he get through?"

"Daddy's boy," Tom dismissed him easily.

"What about your military contact? The one who was giving you information?"

"Gaeta. He's been shot," Tom said simply.

"Shot? Oh, wait. He's the serviceman that lost his leg. The one that Baltar's been praying for?"

That made Tom stop in his tracks. "_Baltar's_ been praying for Gaeta?"

"Yeah, it's been on the wireless. Why?"

"Just… long story." Tom shook his head. "But at any rate, he's out of commission. I'm not sure if he could get Adama to listen to him anyway."

"So what are you going to do?" Cantrell scratched his head. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"No, I'm going to fight it." Tom sighed. "But I have a feeling I'm going to lose."

***

There was no "night", of course, but it was well into the time that most civilians considered night when Tom entered the sickbay. Doc Cottle was standing outside the door, smoking a cigarette.

"Hello, Mr. Vice President."

Tom cringed. "Good evening, Dr. Cottle."

"I'm surprised to see you here. Thought you'd be over on _Colonial One_ bringing down the government." The words sounded harsh, but Cottle was almost chuckling.

"I needed a break," Tom said dryly.

"Hiding in _Galactica_'s sickbay?

"Not hiding," Tom said, shifting the files he'd brought with him to read. "I'm here to see Gaeta."

Cottle's expression gentled. "He was asleep when I came out here."

"I'll wait."

"Go on in."

Felix was asleep when Tom came in. He was wearing tanks and a pair of sweatpants, and what looked like a fresh sheet was pulled up around his waist. He stirred as Tom pulled over a chair and sat down, but didn't open his eyes.

Tom settled in his chair and pulled out his file, but he had a hard time concentrating. The words flowed under his gaze, and eventually he put the files aside.

The sickbay was quiet, at least to Tom's ears. Here, the problems were all handled by someone else, and things followed some sort of scientific, logical order. Not the whim of an Admiral who was determined to ignore the rights and wishes of the people, or a Quorum so scared of an enemy that they'd bend to the Admiral's will. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the various monitors and soft murmurs of nurses wash over him, letting the righteous anger fade to a background level.

He'd managed to finally get reading and comprehending when he heard a soft groan. He put the papers down and looked at the bed to see Felix, awake and watching him with blurry, tired eyes.

"Hi," he said softly. "Welcome home."

Felix gave something like a snort. "Thanks," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Lee Adama told me what happened. It's what people usually do when a friend is sick, isn't it?" The smile leeched from Tom's face, because he realized suddenly that he had pulled a chair over, and there were no personal effects here, no sign of any visitors. He schooled his face back to something casual.

"But there's so much going on," Felix said. "The Cylons, the President-"

Tom forced himself to shrug casually. "Don't worry about that now.

"But aren't you-"

"I brought my work with me," he said, not wanting to answer questions right now. "As far as everyone else knows, I'm sleeping."

Felix studied him with blurry eyes. "You should sleep. You look tired."

"Says the amputee. Can I get you anything? Something to eat? A nurse?"

"No. I'll probably sleep again in a minute. They gave me something…" Felix shook his head. "What's been going on? Please, tell me. All anyone tells me is to rest and not worry."

Tom explained about the President and the resurrection Hub, the death of the Cylon leader and the Quorum's decision. Felix listened, his face gray and serious, asking an occasional question.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked at the end. "Acknowledge Lee as President?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Tom asked. "It's only until we get Roslin back anyway. And we _will_ get her back. Then we can sort it out. Right now, Adama's making it too difficult. I'm right, but it would cause too much disruption at a time the Fleet can't afford it."

"Brushed to the side," Felix said, and Tom thought of the chair he'd dragged over.

"Yeah." He could tell Felix was tiring quickly. "Did I wear you out too much?"

Felix shook his head. "No. I'm glad you're here." It was a simple, heartfelt statement that went right through Tom's defenses and into his soul.

There were words that Tom was thinking then, but they just didn't seem right. Even as he tried he knew he'd never be able to say them. So he leaned over and brushed a kiss across Felix's forehead; a father's gentle acknowledgement of a son's battle.

He didn't know why he couldn't say the exact words, couldn't put the proper label on a relationship that could easily be defined. But he knew that Felix understood it- it was there in his eyes, in the way his hand fumbled for Tom's and gripped it.

He'd come to give comfort. But in that tiny returned gesture, Tom found himself receiving it as well.

***

"You shouldn't be going back to work yet," Tom insisted.

"I'll be fine." Felix pulled on his jacket. "Doc Cottle gave me the go-ahead."

Tom glanced over at Cottle. The doctor nodded, but with a scowl that suggested he'd given Felix permission because he had to, not because it was a good idea.

"How are you getting to the CIC?" Tom asked.

"Wheelchair," Cottle said as Felix said, "Crutches." Their eyes locked for a long moment, and Cottle broke first.

"Fine. Crutches. But I'm walking down there with you."

"So am I," Tom said.

Felix flushed. "I can do it on my own," he insisted, although none of the three of them believed him. He buttoned up his jacket and eased himself out of bed, picking up the crutches and balancing reasonably well… for someone who'd had his leg amputated less than four days ago.

"All right, then." Cottle picked up a few things and slipped off his white coat. "Let's go, then."

They were a strange assortment walking through the halls of the _Galactica_. People watched them, openly gaping. Felix held his head high, although the struggle was evident in the way he had to pause for breath and readjust his crutches. Tom and Cottle stopped with him, neither of them commenting or drawing any attention to his struggle.

Cottle opened the door to the CIC, and Tom discreetly took Felix's elbow as they headed for the stairs. Tigh looked up and began to order Tom out, but the looks on their faces must have silenced him. Across the room Dee watched them, her face grim but with a twitch of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The lieutenant near her started to clap, but she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. Felix nodded his head at her in thanks, and then moved to his own station.

Cottle caught up to them and helped Felix settle into his station, muttering instructions about painkillers and stimulants. He backed off again, moving over to talk to Tigh in low tones. Tom looked down at Felix.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll make do." Felix said.

Tom smiled grimly. "I knew you would."

***

The Raptors winged down to Earth… Earth, glowing green and blue beneath them. Felix was sitting in the CIC, listening to the chatter between the pilots when the phone rang. Somehow, he knew exactly who it was.

"Mr. Vice President," he hazarded as he picked up the phone.

Tom laughed on the other end. "I thought you might be there."

"Sort of symbolic, isn't it?" Felix asked bitterly.

"I prefer to think us as the spares and hopes for the future if it all goes wrong," Tom said. "But I'd give pretty much anything to be going down there right now."

"Me, too." Felix paused. "Tom?"

"Yes?"

"I thought I might stay in the military. But now… I'm not so sure."

"Well, when you decide, welcome aboard, Mr. Chief of Staff."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

They both knew that it wasn't going to happen that way. In fact, neither of them had any idea _what_ was going to happen. But they both knew what Felix was saying- that he'd cast his lot in with Tom, and they were together on this from here on out.

Felix hung up the phone and took a deep breath, looking around the CIC. Things could only look up from here.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the excitement, his leg still hurt intensely. Felix reached down and rubbed the stump, still staring blindly at the Dradis console. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and his heart was pounding erratically. His hand still lingered on the phone. Chief of Staff. He never thought he'd be going back to those words. And he'd never wanted to- not after New Caprica. And he had to admit he probably never would.

What was the thirteenth tribe like? Felix leaned his chin on his hand, picturing cities. Cities like there had been on Picon, but different. Lights, lots of lights. White marble and gray stone, and tall spires soaring to the sky. People in the streets, walking and talking, shopping and laughing, wearing clothing that wasn't ragged. And restaurants. His stomach cramped suddenly as he imagined the smell of food. He remembered, a lifetime ago, chicken and peppers and spices, noodles and mushrooms and cheese.

The Dradis beeped, part of the routine. He entered the code mechanically, and went back to his thoughts.

Earth.

Tom wouldn't be President of course, but he could see Tom in the government, helping people settle in and adjust. Or in an office, constantly on the phone, directing and negotiating. It was the sort of role Tom was made for, although Dee would argue that he'd find it too boring with no buildings to blow up. Felix made a face. Tom had just offered him a job with him, and Felix was sure he still would, but the truth was he couldn't see himself in any of those scenarios. Not really.

What _did_ he want? He glanced across the CIC, where Louis was fiddling with the comm unit. Yes, he could see that someday. A small house together, a bed that was big enough for them both to stretch out, a soft comforter and feather pillows. Sunlight streaming in on late mornings, reading the paper naked in bed, laughter and sex and companionship and closeness. Yes, he wanted that.

But when he left that haven, what then? Nothing military, if there even was one, which was an interesting thought right there. He didn't really see himself teaching, or becoming a doctor like Cottle had suggested. But a lab, maybe. There was a twinge of something like home in that, and he smiled.

He didn't want to plan too much, get his hopes up too high. But even as he told himself that, he felt them soaring.

***

Even with his door closed, Tom could hear excited voices and laughter. He glanced out the tiny window again, fastening his gaze on the blue planet spinning beneath them. It looked beautiful from up here.

But then, so did New Caprica.

He remembered the feeling of ground under his feet and wind on his face, rain on his hair and sun on his shoulders. But at the same time he remembered mud and cold and hunger and bitterness and broken promises… and Cylons.

Cylons. The word even tasted bad on his lips. And yet, they were here at Earth with the Fleet, like they hadn't annihilated almost all of the human race. Like everything was okay. Like Laura Roslin had forgotten everything she'd stood for, everything the people needed.

Tom had seen too much to believe in the dream of Earth. He hoped that Laura and her Admiral had a plan B for when it all came crashing down.

***

And Tom was right. It all came crashing down and the dream shattered into a million glittering pieces that went skidding across the floor.

***

"Lieutenant Gaeta?"

Felix drifted to the surface and sighed heavily as he pulled himself back into focus. He ground his fists against his eyes and the blur resolved into a private, someone Felix was certain he should know and for the life of him couldn't remember his name. "Yeah?" he slurred, sitting up slowly in his rack. "What time is it?"

"1845, sir," Private Whatever said. Felix shook his head.

"I'm not on duty."

"No, sir, but the Vice President is on board. He wants to see you."

Felix rubbed his eyes again and nodded, and then reached for his jacket. "Tell him I'll be right there," he said. The private saluted and left.

It took a few minutes for him to get dressed. His fingers felt thick and clumsy doing his buttons, and he still had to consult his notes about the procedure for putting on the prosthetic, especially since he'd taken morpha only a half hour ago. It wasn't until he was fully dressed that he noticed Dee staring at him. "What?" he sighed, bracing for a diatribe on the evils of Tom Zarek.

"Nothing," Dee said. She pulled on her fatigue jacket. Despite the day's revelations, she was completely calm, unruffled, and he admired her for that through his own personal haze. "We're Louis get off to?"

"He was going to eat, I think," Felix said. "He needed a break." He sighed guiltily. "He does too much for me."

"He loves you," Dee said simply. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I like him. He's good for you." She smiled, and then drifted towards the door. "I've got a playdate with a curly-haired moppet. Have fun with your terrorist."

"Have fun with yours," he said sourly. He pulled himself up and followed her out the door, into the chaos that was the halls of _Galactica_.

It took a long time to get down to the conference room, but when he arrived, Tom was waiting patiently. He stood up, extending his hand and grasping Felix by the shoulder. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too." Felix forced a smile. "I can only imagine the Admiral is saying the same thing to you."

Tom chuckled bitterly. "I'm sure he'll have some choice words for me. How are you doing?"

Felix shrugged. "About the same as everyone else in the Fleet, I guess," he said sourly. The nice thing about morpha was that it helped dull _all_ the pain. He was thinking that when he noticed Tom staring at him. "What?"

"Are you all right?" Tom asked. He guided Felix to a chair gently. "Physically, I mean. You don't look so good."

"Oh." Felix blinked hard. "Yeah. It's just the pain meds. I just took some right before you arrived and…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"I see." Tom poured him a glass of water. "What are you taking?"

"Whatever it was that Cottle gave me," Felix said vaguely. "I forget."

"You," Tom said flatly. "_You_ forget a simple thing like what medication you're on?"

"Mr. Vice President, I'm sure you didn't come over here to discuss my medical regime."

"Felix, what did you take?" Tom growled, and something in Felix quailed, just a little. The expression on Tom's face was one he hadn't seen since New Caprica and arguments about Baltar. He sighed.

"(5α,6α)-7,8-didehydro-4,5-epoxy-17-meth&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;ylmorphinan-3,6-diol," he said, just to shut him up.

Tom blinked in non-comprehension, and then his eyes narrowed. Only for a second, but Felix caught sight of it before Tom sighed. "Fine, Felix," he said. "Don't tell me."

"I just did!" Felix protested innocently.

"Never mind." Tom sat back, pulled out a pen, and twirled it between his fingers. "Like you said, I didn't come here to discuss your medical regime. I need to know what's going on."

"What's going on? Earth's a cinder," Felix said bitterly, and now even the morpha couldn't completely mask the agony of that thought. "A nuclear wasteland."

"I got that part," Tom said. "But that's about all I've gotten. Where's Laura Roslin?"

Against his will, Felix's head began to clear. He rubbed his forehead idly. "As far as I know, she's still on the _Galactica_," he admitted with a scowl. "I didn't see her scheduled to leave for _Colonial One_ at all. And I'm guessing she's in the Admiral's quarters."

"The Admiral's quarters," Tom said sourly.

"There or the sickbay," Felix said. "But I went down right after my shift and I didn't notice her there."

"What's Adama said?"

"Nothing."

"Felix-"

"Tom, I'm serious. He's said nothing. Literally. He was in the CIC for maybe ten minutes." His face twisted. "Tigh was in the CIC the whole shift, though."

"Saul Tigh?"

"Cylon extraordonairre."

"I'm not comfortable with that."

"_You're_ not?" Felix asked incredulously. He fumbled for a cigarette, and offered one to Tom, who refused. He lit it and took a deep drag, coughing before he said, "Granted, I don't think Tigh will destroy the Fleet. I've worked with him for seven years. He's a drunk, he's an ass, and he has no concept of leadership, but he's been loyal to humanity… and to the Admiral."

"You have more faith in the Cylons than I would have thought."

"No, I don't. I'd trust Colonel Tigh, albeit cautiously. But frak, I was on the bridge when Boomer shot the Admiral. I saw the whole thing. She really had no idea she was going to do it. Whose to say the same thing won't happen with Tigh or Tyrol or Tory?"

"Or Anders," Tom said, looking at Felix's leg pointedly.

Felix waved a hand through the smoke. "Anders didn't shoot me because he's a Cylon," he allowed, although the words hurt his teeth. "Anders shot me because he's led around by the balls by Kara Thrace. But the really big thing about Tigh isn't so much that he's a threat in terms of sabotage. It's that Adama loves him. Mark my words, Adama will convince himself that _all_ the Cylons are like Tigh. He trusts Tigh, so he must be able to trust any random Two, Six, or Eight on that frakking basestar. I can believe the Five had nothing to do with the attacks on the Colonies. But those Twos, Sixes, and Eights that Adama is already trusting? Every last one of them voted to annihilate the human race, and damn near did."

"And Tory Foster went over to the Cylons," Tom pointed out.

"They're wild cards," Felix agreed. "All four of them."

"That's another point. Four, not five?"

"If they or the Admiral knows who the fifth is, they're not telling."

"Is it possible that the fifth is dead?" Tom asked.

"I would suppose so," Felix mused. "The odds would certainly point that way. Although I find it extremely… coincidental that four of the five are in the Fleet."

"Yeah. Coincidental."

"Exactly."

"What about copies? How many Saul Tighs or Galen Tyrols are walking around?"

Felix shook his head, stubbing out his cigarette irritably. "No one seems to know. But I'm assuming that given the state of Earth and the fact we haven't run into any other Cylons, any resurrection technology they might have had was destroyed. My gut tells me the Final Five or whatever aren't our problem- it's that basestar that is."

"Makes sense," Tom agreed. "So, what's the Admiral's plan from here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Felix said with no small amount of bitterness. "I've been given no orders."

"None?" Tom asked incredulously.

"None. I've gone ahead and started looking for systems with inhabitable planets, but habitability has never been the problem."

"It's not?"

"No. It's the Cylons." Felix sighed, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. "If we settle anywhere, what's to stop the Cylons from finding us and blowing us up again? What's to stop it from becoming New Caprica again?"

"So, what would you do?" Tom asked, shifting forward. Suddenly, Felix realized this was a test of some sort; Tom had his own thoughts, and he wanted to see what answers Felix had come up with. How compatible they were. He had no idea why Tom was thinking this way, but the knowledge cut through the last of the morpha cloud like a knife and completely sharpened his mind.

"Well," he began, "now that the Cylons can't resurrect, we actually have a chance at fighting them. Not a great chance, but more than we ever had before. And we can keep them from surprising us.

"Our resources are extremely limited at this point in time, and the ships aren't going to last forever. Earth didn't do anything to change either of those situations. We need to find ourselves a home- a defensible home- and we need to do it soon." He pulled a piece of paper and a pen over and began to sketch. "Our options are probably limited, but a geologically active world, something that had a lot of volcanic activity… something with a lot of crags and large canyons. Something we could build into quickly. With the right infrastructure, a single settlement is much more defensibly than a full planet. And built into rock, it would be harder to find, easier to keep our people out of sight, and if it came down to it, easier to defend. That was one mistake we made on New Caprica- the settlement had no cover."

"So you're saying we should essentially build a settlement as a giant fall-out shelter?"

Felix nodded. "Or settlements, if we wanted to take the chance that the Cylons might find one settlement, but not another. Although I suspect that would spread our resources too thin. Regardless, it's far from a perfect plan," he admitted. "But it's the best I've got. Now, see, if we set it up like _this_…"

They continued to talk for a long time, falling unconsciously into old roles. Tom asked questions and offered suggestions, and under his hand Felix felt a plan for the future roughly taking shape. It was too bad it would never come to fruition. He stared at the sketches they'd made for a long moment, wistfully wondering what such a life would be like.

"You look done in," Tom said suddenly. "Let me walk you back to your quarters."

"All right." Now that Tom said it, Felix remembered how tired he was. They walked together through the halls of _Galactica_, his own steps awkward and painful, and Tom's short and leisurely, his hands in his pockets.

"Are you going to be able to get some sleep?" Tom asked, guiding Felix around a pair of brawling soldiers and the crowd viciously cheering them on.

Felix shrugged. "I don't have duty, if that's what you're asking."

"Will your rackmates keep you up?" They approached Felix's quarters, and to Felix's delight, another officer was just about to enter.

"Not so much. I- hey Louis," Felix said, a smile spreading over his face.

Louis grinned back at him. "You are supposed to be sleeping," he admonished, but his voice was teasing and affectionate. He started to lean in, then glanced in Tom's direction and did a double take. "Oh. Mr. Vice President."

Felix glanced out of the corner of his eye at Tom, willing him to like Louis immediately. Tom extended a hand. "I don't believe we've met, Lieutenant…"

"Hoshi," Louis supplied before Felix could. "We've never met face to face, but we've spoken enough on the wireless."

"Right. I remember." It was Tom's easy, casually affectionate manner and Felix's heart sank. He didn't like him.

The coldness wasn't just coming from Tom. Louis turned his attention to Felix, his smile a little more forced than it had been. "Have you eaten?" he asked. "I could go get you something."

"You don't have to-" Felix began, but Tom interrupted.

"He hasn't eaten."

Louis nodded stiffly. "Well then," he said. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." He shot a glance that could have been seeking permission or could have been warning at Tom, and then left.

"It was nice to meet you in person, Lieutenant," Tom called after him.

Felix turned to Tom. "You don't like him."

"I never said that." Tom cocked his head. "You do," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Felix lifted his chin defiantly. "We've been together for six months."

"This is the first I've heard about it." Tom opened the bulkhead and gripped Felix's elbow gently, steadying him as he awkwardly clambered inside. "I'm surprised you've never mentioned him."

Felix raised his eyebrows. "And _you've_ been celibate this entire time?"

"There's a difference between a sexual encounter and a partner," Tom pointed out. He sighed. "He's not Gaius Baltar. I'll say that much for him."

Felix made a face. "He's worth a lot more than that." He wearily sat down on his rack and began to remove the prosthetic. "You have no idea what he's been through; how strong he really is. I'm damned lucky that for once-"

Tom wearily held up a hand. "Felix, lay off. I never said I didn't like him. But he's one of the communications officers aboard the _Galactica_. Part of his job description seems to be coming up with reasons not to connect me to the Admiral."

"Sorry," Felix said grumpily. He shrugged off his jacket. "It's just been a long day."

"That's an understatement," Tom agreed.

Felix laid his jacket aside. "In fact, he-" He was cut off as Tom darted forward and grabbed his wrists, twisting hard so that his inner arms were exposed. "What the frak?!"

"I should be asking you the same thing," Tom snarled, staring down at the bruises. "What the hell have you been doing?"

Felix tried to snatch his arms away, but Tom had a vice-like grip on his wrists. "I told you I'm still on painkillers," he said as indignantly as possible. "They have to be injected."

"Bullshit. I don't know much about medicine, but I know that they aren't letting you out of sickbay if you're still injecting painkillers."

"You were the one who said I wasn't ready to be released," Felix shot back.

"There's a difference between that and frakking shooting up morpha!" Tom shouted.

"Yeah, well, you have your leg amputated and see how much pain you're still in seven days later! And it's not like they have a lot of midlevel painkillers around! What am I supposed to do, Tom?"

To his surprise, the words brought silence. And then, "Seven days?" Tom said quietly.

"Seven days," Felix repeated bitterly. "That's all it's been."

Tom rubbed his eyes and sat down at the table. "You're not doing well, are you, Felix? I didn't think you were putting up a front because you look like shit, but you are acting, aren't you?"

"Everyone is," Felix said dully. "But yeah. It never stops hurting." He looked away. Tom was one of two people he would admit that to, but that didn't mean he was comfortable saying it.

Tom leaned forward and picked up Felix's jacket, straightening the seams and folding it over neatly in his lap. "This discussion isn't over," he told Felix, "but your boyfriend is coming back soon."

"You don't have to be so-"

"I'm not. But you have a week, Felix. If I see tracks on your arms after a week, I'm going straight to Cottle."

"Fine," Felix huffed.

Tom put a hand on his arm. "I'm serious, Felix. And I'm saying this for your own good. No more morpha." He stood. "I'll see you in a day or two."

"Yes, sir."

Tom smiled sardonically, and then left the officers' quarters. He moved much quicker than when he'd entered, Felix noticed sourly. He leaned over and began to unlace his boot.

The bulkhead opened again, and Louis came in with a completely unappetizing bowl of green mush and a bottle of some sort of liquid. "Zarek?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"Don't you start, too," Felix warned. "I'm not in the mood."

"I'm not starting," Louis said primly, setting the bowl and the bottle on the table and pulling two glasses from his pockets. "I'm merely expressing surprise and interest."

"And disapproval."

"No. I really don't feel like wearing algae, and the look on your face tells me I will be if I say anything more."

"I wouldn't do that," Felix muttered. "It would make the bed smell like swamp rot."

Louis chuckled and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but Felix turned his head and caught his lips. He deepened the kiss, pulling Louis down to sit beside him. Louis's body was firm and warm against his, driving away the chill that had settled over him.

"You don't need to use sex to get out of discussing Zarek," Louis murmured against his lips. His hands were tentative and gentle on Felix's shoulders. "You just have to ask."

"I'm not using sex to avoid discussing Zarek," Felix said. "I'm using sex to get out of eating algae." He kissed Louis again. "And because I appreciate everything you do for me." Louis sputtered with laughter, his forehead against Felix's shoulder. "What?" Felix asked. "I'm serious." But he was grinning, too.

Louis was still smiling. "Yes. Because you're romantic and thoughtful and sincere. And because you are trying to get me to shut up about Zarek."

"Maybe a little," Felix admitted.

Louis shrugged. "I don't have to say anything. I'll just mention it to Dee."

Felix pulled away. "You'd sic Dee on me? That's it. No sex for you."

Louis wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap, his hands now much bolder. "Which means no sex for you, either. Let's see how long you can make that one stick."

Felix closed his eyes. It wasn't that what Louis was doing felt good, or that the morpha dulled the pain in his leg enough for him to feel pleasure. It was close, it was intimate, and for a moment, when they were skin to skin and only breathing each other, Felix could forget everything else. It was a drug unto itself, and he yielded completely to Louis's touch, shifting so they were both lying on his rack.

"Ten seconds," Felix said with a forced smile. "A new record for me."

Louis laughed, and Felix closed his eyes and let him shut out the world.

***

Tom was sitting on the hangar deck, reading a report and making notes on it while he waited for his transport.

"Excuse me, Mr. Vice President."

Tom glanced up to see a deckhand with a long, thin face standing in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"I need the crate you're sitting on."

"Oh." Tom stood up. "Sorry."

"It's no problem." The deckhand pulled the crate out and began sifting through the contents. "Bunch of garbage anyway."

Tom peered in. "Looks like it. You're actually using this stuff?"

"If I can. There isn't much else I can do." He pulled out a rusty part and fiddled with it, and then tossed it back in irritably. "We're really working with garbage. Chief Laird keeps trying to get Adama to do something about it, but-"

Someone snorted. Tom turned to see the Raptor pilot, a younger, extremely attractive brunette who winked at him.

"The Admiral doesn't busy himself with little issues like parts," she said. "Or the machinery to make some of them." Brooks opened his mouth to argue, but she ignored him. "Ready to go, Mr. Vice President?"

"I am." He extended his hand to Brooks. "Take care," he said smoothly, and then followed the Raptor pilot, noting that her name was Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson, according to her ship. "You've flown me before," he observed.

"Three times," she said, shooting a smile back over her shoulder. The smile slipped a notch. "And getting off New Caprica."

"I remember that," he said, because how could he not? "But I only remember two other times."

"Yeah, well, you were pretty upset the last time," she said, a shudder clouding her face for a moment. "You told me you were coming to see Gaeta in sickbay."

"That's right." He stepped on up into the Raptor. "You good friends with Gaeta?"

She followed him. "He's a good guy. Doesn't deserve what he's getting, that's for sure, although I really only know him because he and my ECO had a thing."

Tom smirked. "Before Hoshi?"

Racetrack laughed. "Long before Hoshi. Before New Caprica, even. Just as well. He's better off with Hoshi."

"Yeah?" Tom asked. "It surprised me that he'd go for the wimpy older guy with the comb-over who's in the Admrial's pocket."

Racetrack laughed. "Aw. Someone doesn't put your calls through, Mr. Vice President?" She fiddled with the throttle. "Hoshi comes across as a nice, sweet guy with really bad hair," she agreed, "but he's a lot harder than people give him credit for. And when he wants to, he can be a real bitch. Frankly, he and Gaeta are perfect together."

"Well then. Not going to begrudge anyone sex."

Racetrack raised an eyebrow, an expression that made her even more attractive. "Jealous?" she asked archly.

"Hardly. Call it… fatherly concern."

"That's actually really sweet," she said with a smile. Then she leaned out the door. "Skulls! Get your ass over here so we can go!"

"Eager to see me off?" he teased.

"You coming back any time soon?"

"I would like to think so. It's attractive."

The ECO swung up into the Raptor. Tom instantly recognized him as the man who had insisted that they get Gaeta off New Caprica. "Sorry," Skulls said. "Laird-"

"Oh, Gods," Racetrack rolled her eyes. "Say no more!"

"Can't I?" Skulls complained.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it," Tom volunteered.

Racetrack and Skulls grinned at each other. "Close the door, Skulls," Racetrack said. "He asked for it."

***

The alarm they'd set went off too early. Felix groaned, his head still clogged and trying to ignore that the morpha had worn off enough for him to feel the pain in his leg. Next to him, Louis sat up, looking far too awake and alive. Felix rubbed at his eyes, and suddenly the revelation of Earth in all ruination came crashing back down.

"Do we really have to get up?" Felix asked, because as long as Louis was against him he had a chance of shutting out the thoughts.

"We do. I switched shifts with Swanson when he agreed to take Dee's shift, so I need to get to the CIC. And you're back on duty, too."

"I can't move," Felix complained. The last thing he wanted to do was go down to the CIC and deal with reality.

Louis smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "I'll cover for you for the first half hour. But after that, you're on your own." He slid out of the bed and began pulling on his clothing. Felix watched him, envious as Louis stood easily and hitched his pants up. "It's going to be okay," Louis said, smiling at him. "We'll get through this."

So he kept saying. Felix forced a smile, because he didn't believe it right now at all. He reached out and closed his fingers around Louis's wrist. "We could stay just a little longer," he said.

Louis gently disengaged himself from Felix's grip. "For one, we probably shouldn't have been doing that anyway. You're still hurting. And for two, we really do have duty."

"Frak duty," Felix muttered, but Louis just smiled.

"I'll see you in the CIC."

Felix watched him go, desperately wishing that they could just pull the curtain, stay with each other and hide. He glanced at the clock. There were still another ten hours to go before he dared to give himself another shot of morpha. He sighed heavily and laid back down in the bed, but the warmth of their bodies was already fading from the covers. And no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, the habit of a lifetime was too strong, and he knew he couldn't just skip out on work.

He was almost entirely dressed and just putting the prosthetic back on when Dee came in, wearing a black dress and looking like she'd just stepped off the cover of a magazine. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and then narrowed. "You're glowing," he accused her. For Gods' sake, he'd just had _sex_ for the first time since the amputation, and he wasn't frakking glowing.

Dee just smiled and shrugged, humming to herself. "Am I?" she asked.

Felix sighed heavily and dragged himself to his feet. "All I can think about is that waste of a planet-"

Dee cut him off with an impatient huff. "Felix, please. I just want to hang on to this for as long as I can."

He glanced back at his bed, all too aware of the feeling. Dee was still standing at her locker, brushing her hair. She looked luminous. Unconsciously, he took a few steps towards her, looking at her pictures.

In his locker, there was a picture of his parents that he couldn't bear to put on the Wall, and a picture of himself and Louis, laughing. Dee had no obvious pictures of her parents, which he understood, and no lover, which he understood even better. Instead, there were two pictures of a little girl. It took a moment, but suddenly he realized that the little girl with the ponytails and the gap-toothed grin was the beautiful woman standing in front of them.

"Look at that," he said wonderingly, wishing she'd smile like the girl did more often. "Little Ana's got her smile back."

Dee looked at the pictures. "Sometimes I don't even remember that was me. It's so long ago. She has no frakking idea what's ahead of her."

He thought of the child he had been once- a curly headed, stick thin runt with skinned knees, all elbows and awkwardness and books and questions and plans. He thought of the first time he'd stepped on the soil of New Caprica. He glanced back at the bed and thought of just a few months ago, when he and Louis had laid there together for the first time, wrapped around each other and laughing in heady excitement of _finally_ allowing this to come to fruition. He thought of the destruction of the Colonies, New Caprica, his leg, and Earth. "Yeah," he said bitterly. "None of us do."

He picked up his crutches, and headed towards the hatch. Dee's humming followed him out the door, and for one brief moment the music soothed him, just a little bit.

Then the gunshot rang out and shattered any peace he might ever find in that room again.

***

"What happened?" Tom demanded.

"Adama's wife," Jacob Cantrell repeated, cradling the phone. "Lee, I mean. Not the Admiral."

"I assumed that's who you meant." Tom conjured up a picture of the girl, coming up with dark skin, large eyes, and a haughty demeanor that screamed how much she disapproved of him. But from what he knew of her, suicide was not something he would have suspected.

That right there alone said just how much the Fleet was in trouble.

"She won't be the last," Tom said slowly, realizing it as he spoke the words. "People were so determined that we would find Earth. Having that dream- that hope- ripped away from them is going to break them."

"If the President-" Cantrell began hopelessly.

"The President," Tom said heavily, stressing the title, "is not here. The President is still hiding on _Galactica_, unable to face her people. The President is failing in her duty, in her responsibilities to the Fleet."

"It's not her fault that Earth was what it was, I suppose."

"No, it's not," Tom was forced to agree. "But the possibility that Earth would prove to be something other than a haven should have been considered. Where do we go from here? What do we do? These are the questions Laura Roslin should have been ready to answer a long time ago."

"And do you have the answers?" Cantrell asked, interested.

"I have ideas," Tom said. "And I'm open to others."

"I'd like to hear about them. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with the captain of the _Outlander_ in two minutes," he said. "We'll continue this later."

"All right." Tom rubbed his face. "I'll see you later."

Cantrell left, and Tom stood up, pacing the small office restlessly. He stared at the pile of papers. Requests for help, reports of deaths and fighting and sabotage, petty injustices and desperate pleas. He stared at them for a long moment, and then suddenly knocked them to the ground. "Frak!" He kicked the pile, which only made a mess and didn't help his agitation at all. He took a deep breath and knelt down to pick up the papers, hands trembling.

He glanced at the clock again. He wasn't getting anything done the rest of the day, and damn it, if Laura Roslin could blow off duty for this long, he could leave an hour earlier than he'd planned. If he hurried, he even might catch the shuttle that had brought the _Outlander_'s captain over.

The Raptor was still docked, and he hurried towards it. "Wait!" he called, as the pilot climbed in.

Racetrack stopped and popped her head out of the Raptor. When she saw him, she smiled. "Mr. Vice President. I _suppose_ we can wait for you."

"Thank Gods," he said, his breath coming a little too heavy as he slowed down. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

She smiled at him. "I'm sure that has nothing to do with. You just look like you've had a very bad day."

"I have," Tom agreed, and he swung himself aboard the Raptor. "But somehow, I have a feeling my luck's about to change."

***

"That," Tom said, running a hand along Racetrack's bare shoulder, "was exactly what I needed."

Racetrack grinned, a long, slow expression that was more a leer than a smile. "You and me both, Mr. Vice President."

He laughed. "I'm not sure that titles are quite appropriate between us now. You could call me Tom."

"Mmm. I like Mr. Vice President. It makes you sound powerful."

He tickled her ribs to ignore the quiver of dissent those words made him feel. "Funny. What about you? What's your real name?"

"Margaret," she said, making a face.

"Maggie?"

"Marge."

"Racetrack, then. You don't need to sound older than me."

She laughed and climbed out of bed, searching around for her clothing. "No, I don't," she cheerfully agreed, "although there's definitely something to be said for experience." She winked, pulled her tanks on, leaned over and kissed him playfully. He refrained from pointing out that twenty years on a prison ship didn't leave one with a lot of experience. Besides, he decided, Ellen Tigh had filled in a lot of _those_ gaps. He glanced around, and Racetrack tossed him his own shirt. "Thanks."

"No problem. Sorry to run on you like this, but I've got to get back to duty."

"I wouldn't expect less," he said. And now that he was calmer, he could face what needed to be done. "I'll see you… later."

Racetrack winked at him again. "Count on it, Mr. Vice President." And with that she slipped out of his quarters.

Tom watched the door close with a smile, and then located his pants. He ignored the quiet voice of self-doubt that pointed out she was making an extremely quick getaway, and went over to his desk. There was a lot to be done.

***

"Felix, you need to sleep," Louis informed him.

"I am sleeping," Felix snapped. He ran his hand through his hair and struggled to his… foot, he supposed. "Lay off, Louis."

"No," Louis said, stepping closer. "This is getting ridiculous. Look, I know it's only been a few days and that losing Dee was hard on you, but-"

"But what?" Felix demanded. "Life has to go on? I have to get over it? I'll see her again someday, in another place? She's with the Gods now? Don't give me any of those bullshit platitudes."

"I wasn't going to." Louis crossed his arms, staring Felix down. "What I was going to say is that if you don't get some sleep, I'm going to tell Adama you're not sleeping. I checked your calculations for the new emergency jump coordinates. Want to know where you put us?"

"In a star?" Felix asked wearily.

"In a frakking star," Louis said. "I am not telling you to _get over it_," he said mockingly. "Or any of those other words you seem to want to put in my mouth. But I am telling you to get your ass back in that bed and sleep, because otherwise you're going to kill thirty nine thousand people because you forgot the constant when you integrated!"

"Most people would say I forgot to carry the one," Felix groused.

It was a sign of just how angry Louis was that not a flicker of a smile passed over his face. "Ass. Bed. Now." Felix cocked an eyebrow, and Louis leaned over into his face. "_Now._"

"Fine. I'm going, I'm going." Felix sat back down, pulled off his jacket and eased out of the prosthetic.

"Pants, too."

"Going to tuck me in?" Felix sneered.

"No. But going to make sure you sleep." Once Felix was in bed, Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of morpha. "Look," he said, sitting down on the bed beside Felix, "I'm not crazy about giving this to you. But I talked to Ishay, and she said that most amputation patients are still pretty doped up at this point. The idea that you're out of the sickbay, much less walking around on a prosthetic, has her pretty furious. And you need your sleep, or you're just going to end up right back in there, okay?" He ran a gentle hand through Felix's curls. "Here." He gave him the syringe. Felix took it gratefully and injected it, ignored how Louis winced at the easy way he managed to get the needle into his arm. Then the world started to blur. He lay back and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he managed to murmur as he faded off into oblivion.

Louis leaned over and kissed him. "Nothing to be sorry for," he whispered against Felix's lips. "Just get some rest."

***

Felix blinked back to consciousness, his heart still pounding and his hands still clutching the sheets. With great effort he managed to focus and look at the clock. Only five hours had passed since he'd taken the morpha and fallen asleep. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself back down, but nothing was coming. The dream was too real.

Of course, the dream _had_ been real, and one glance over at Dee's empty bunk sent it all crashing down again.

He gave up on sleep as something that wasn't going to happen and eased out of bed. Louis was off on duty, he'd never know. He made his way out of the officer's quarters and down the hall.

People didn't look at him. He'd noticed that before now, but it was even more pronounced since Dee's death. They ignored him partly out of pity, and partly because Louis was with him less, and people found it easier to acknowledge him when Louis was around.

He hated that.

Someone had scrawled "Frak Earth" on the walls. It had been scrubbed off, but you could see where the letters once were. Felix stood staring at it for a long moment, and then moved on.

He entered the Memorial Hall, leaning heavily on his crutch. As always, the first place his eyes went was New Caprica. He couldn't help but think that some of those people were smiling to see what had become of him now.

He stopped in front of Dee's picture. He and Louis had come down here to hang it. They'd debated- for half a second- if they should wait for Lee Adama to do it, and then decided that he didn't deserve the honor. It had just been a few days ago that they stood here side by side, Louis's hand on his elbow as he'd hung the picture up. Now he stared at it with dead eyes.

It wasn't that Earth was a cinder that had killed Dee. It was that Earth had been built up into this amazing dream, and there had been no contingency plan. No backup. And when Dee had had the rug pulled from under her, she fell with nothing to grab onto. Nothing to hold on to.

No one should have to feel like that.

Not ever.

With a sigh, he turned and limped out of the Hall to continue on, the sound of his crutch loud in his ears.

***

Tom picked up the phone and irritably punched in the number, musing that he could do it in his sleep. Screw going through Communications, or calling the Admiral personally. The people of the _Zephyr_ needed an answer about their broken scrubber _now_, not when the Admiral could move his ass long enough to acknowledge it. Hoshi might act as a cockblocker for Adama, but Felix would listen.

"_Galactica_." The voice that came down the line wasn't Felix's, but was all too familiar. Tom furrowed his brow.

"Sorry. I was trying to get the tactical station."

"This _is_ the tactical station," Hoshi snapped back.

"Well, where's Gaeta?"

He expected a sarcastic reply. What he got was complete silence.

"Lieutenant Hoshi?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Lieutenant Gaeta departed for the _Zephyr_ yesterday, but his Raptor never arrived."

"What?" Tom ran a hand through his hair. "What happened?"

"They were in transit when we jumped, sir. They never made it to the new coordinates."

"Well, what's being done?"

"Nothing, sir." The professional veneer couldn't cover the distress in Hoshi's voice.

"Was Gaeta the only one on that Raptor?"

"No, sir. There were the two pilots, a deckhand on a duty mission, and two Eight models."

Well, that explained the _Zephyr_ problem, anyway. "And nothing has been done. I assume that Adama's searched the coordinates we jumped to?"

"No. I've been asking anyone who will listen to let _me_ go, but so far…."

"Listen," Zarek said, "I'll make a deal with you. Connect me with Adama, and I'll put the pressure on him to let you go."

There was a pause, but it was short. "I will do that, sir. Thank you."

"Thank you." Tom cleared his throat. "Let me know if Gaeta's found, will you?"

"Yes, sir. Hold on, I'll put you through to the Admiral."

It took a minute, but the line clicked back into activity. "What do you want, Zarek?" Adama said with no preamble.

"I want a mechanic over on the _Zephyr_ to take care of that scrubber, and I want you to at least move your ass to look for the missing Raptor with four humans aboard."

"You don't get to dictate military policy," Adama growled.

"Why not, if you're going to dictate how the civilian government is to be run? Where's Laura Roslin, Bill?"

"I don't have to listen to this," Adama began.

"Where's Felix Gaeta?" Tom put in before the Admiral could hang up. There was silence on the other end, but it was live silence, not the silence of a dead line. "Your lieutenant tells me he's gone missing, and no one's gone looking for him. Why not?"

"It's not your concern."

"Yes it is, Admiral. It's very much my concern. Felix Gaeta is one of my people, and as acting _President_, I have a duty to him."

"You're not the President."

"And you're very good at avoiding the issue. Where is Gaeta?"

"You don't give a rat's ass," Adama snarled. "It's just a convenient game for you to play. Pretending you give a shit about the people of the Fleet, when all you're really after is some scandal to report, some new chaos to sow."

"And if you knew the first thing about your crew, you'd know just how far off you are."

"Who else is on that Raptor, Zarek?"

Shit! "That's beside the point," Tom growled.

"It's _exactly_ the point," Adama snapped, and hung up.

Tom slammed the phone down. "Frak!" He took a deep breath, and then another, and then picked up the phone again. The _Zephyr_ needed a mechanic, and at least he could do something about that.

***

Late the next night, Racetrack burst into his quarters in tears.

He was sitting in a chair, reading a report by a small lamp, rubbing his temples as he tried to process the words. The door slammed open, and for one wild moment he thought Racetrack was going to tell him she was pregnant. Then he remembered they'd only been sleeping together for four days, and even if she was, it wasn't his. His heart rate returned to normal.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting aside the report. He didn't know her well, but already he knew that Racetrack was not someone who unsettled like this easily.

"It's… it's…" Racetrack paced his room angrily, her hair slipping out of her ponytail as she ran her hands over her head. "It's Adama."

"What happened?" He stood up, found a bottle of bad whiskey, and poured them each a drink. He handed her hers, waited as she bolted it back, and then poured her another. "Tell me," he urged, guiding her to a chair.

She sat down, tugging at the zipper of her flight suit. "This morning," she began, "Lieutenant Hoshi comes to me and tells me that we're going on a search and rescue mission for a Raptor that's been missing. And I'm thinking _finally_, because I knew it was gone."

"You did?"

She shook her head like he was a child. "Of course. Shark and Easy are Raptor pilots. They're… well, they were… and of course, Hoshi's all upset about Gaeta." She wiped at her eyes angrily. "So we start looking, not that we have any clue of where to look. And _finally_, after we _finally_ have to admit that we're not going to find the Raptor, Hoshi says 'let's check the coordinates we jumped to, one more time.' And there it is. There's the frakking Raptor, if you can believe it."

"Somehow, I'm guessing this isn't a good thing."

"It's not. We get the Raptor back and open it up, and there's more blood than you'd see in a Tauron slasher flick. Brooks- that deckhand you met?- he's dead, killed with an overdose of morpha. And Shark and Easy have their throats slit. And not just slit- blood is splattered _everywhere_. And then there's an Eight lying on the floor, stabbed in the… oh, Gods. I don't know where he stabbed her, but it was messy."

"He?"

"Gaeta. He was the only one left alive in the Raptor. He was covered in blood, and half-mad from morpha and oxygen depravation. And he's babbling about how she killed them all, and he had to kill her, until they got him off the Raptor and down to the sickbay."

"Oh my Gods." Tom set the whiskey down, reconsidered, and bolted the entire glass. "What-"

"That's not the worst part," Racetrack said, overriding him. "The worst part happened a few hours later. Adama brings me and Hoshi into his study. And to give you an idea of how rarely _that_ happens, I've been in the Admiral's office twice, and once was when Skulls and I found New Caprica. Anyway, it's just the two of us and Adama and Tigh. And that's when they tell us to keep our mouths shut. The toaster obviously did it and they believe Gaeta and he's going to be back on duty tomorrow, but we're not to say a word. That frakking skinjob _killed_ three humans, and we're not to say one frakking word about it, because it might risk the frakking alliance that no one wants anyway! They're toasters, Tom! They frakking nuked humanity! We don't need their frakking help- we shouldn't be crawling on our stomachs to the very people who've been hunting us the past four years anyway! And one of those _bitches_ kills two of my friends, and I'm supposed to just keep quiet, smile, and play nice? NO FRAKKING WAY!"

Tom grabbed her by the upper arms. "It's okay," he said soothingly, even though he knew it wasn't. "Calm down, Margaret."

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. "What went wrong? Why is Adama doing this? I can't even look at those frakkers without thinking of everything they did to us. I lost my parents, my brothers, my friends… and I'm far from special. _Everyone_ in this Fleet can pretty much say the same thing."

"I can't," Tom told her honestly. She looked up at him quizzically. "Everyone I loved died before I was incarcerated. I spent twenty years in a forced labor camp. The friends I made there…" he grinned sardonically, "well, I wouldn't call it love. I am one of the few people who can say that my station in life _improved_ after the Cylon attack. And yet, I can see that Adama is wrong. Perhaps this alliance is necessary to the survival of the Fleet. I don't know, because the Admiral has not been forthcoming with his reasoning. But even if it is, he does not have the power to force people to accept it. You can't legislate what people feel, and you can't order them to accept."

He pushed her down into a chair gently, and then took her cup and refilled it. "Stay for a little while," he told her, all the while his mind whirling. "At least until you're calm enough. When do you have to be back at _Galactica_?"

"I have duty in two hours," she admitted.

"Well then." He sat down and sipped his drink, sifting through what she'd told him. "I'll go back with you when you go. I'll have a few words for Adama; you can be sure of that."

She smiled at him gratefully.

"How's Hoshi taking it?" Tom asked, swirling his drink. "The order to keep silent, I mean?"

"He doesn't seem to care," Racetrack admitted. "Not that he doesn't _care_, but he's so focused on Felix that he isn't seeing anything else. Then again," she said, her face twisting, "Gaeta's actually alive. Not like Shark or Easy."

"Don't think about it right now," he recommended. "Just calm down, and then we'll go back and talk to Adama. He's not going to listen to you if you're crying and angry. He'll just write it off as weakness."

She cocked her head and looked at him. "You're right." She tossed back the rest of her drink and stood up, her whiskey-scented breath hot on her face. "I shouldn't be thinking at all." She kissed him, and despite himself, he smiled against her lips.

There was no better way to prepare for a battle and blow off some steam than this.

***

Something was beeping. Low and steady and annoying. Felix groaned, blinking and struggling against a headache. When he opened his eyes, the light was too bright it sent shafts of pain searing against his eye sockets. He moaned.

"Hey," a familiar voice said softly.

He became aware of a hand in his, and he squeezed gently, making sure it was really there. "Hey," he said back, smiling as Louis's brown eyes became clear, smiling down at him. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about it now," Louis said, touching his cheek tenderly, and then leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You're safe. That's all that matters."

A nagging voice told him insistently that that _wasn't_ all that mattered, but he tried to ignore it. "I'm in sickbay."

"For a bit. We'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

Their fingers were entwined so tightly. Louis's hand was warm and solid, and Felix clung to it desperately. But it felt strange. Slippery. Insubstantial. Not enough.

And then the Eight came crashing down around him, and he remembered.

This time, he couldn't forget. He _wouldn't_ forget. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow it, but found himself gagging.

Louis helped him sit, holding the basin for him as he vomited. He helped him ease back against the pillow, looked on in concern, his hands gentle. And yet, Felix couldn't shake the feeling that something was massively wrong between them. What would Louis say if he knew? If Felix just told him about the New Caprica lists?

The intellectual part of him knew exactly what Louis would say. He would be appalled, and he would point out that the Eight had played him exactly right. He would say that it wasn't Felix's fault. But even though some logical part of him knew that, all he could imagine was Louis standing up and walking away without another word. All he could imagine was the airlock opening up, and his body hurtling out into space.

"Felix?"

He shook his head, not quite wanting to answer.

There were footsteps, and Felix turned his head long enough to see two people coming to the bedside. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see Tom or Narcho, but he was.

"How are you doing?" Tom asked, stepping close to the bed.

There was no frakking _way_ he could _ever_ tell Tom what had really happened. Absolutely no way. "Could be worse," he said. "I could be dead."

"So I hear."

"At least this time you aren't losing any limbs," Narcho pointed out.

"Noel, come here," Felix ordered. Narcho stepped closer, and he whacked him upside the head. Louis laughed.

"You deserved that," he told Narcho affectionately.

"Lieutenant Hoshi," Tom said. "May I have a word with you?"

Louis glanced back at him, but Narcho waved him away. "Go ahead, Louis. I'll stay." Louis nodded and stepped away.

Alone with Narcho, Felix felt that familiar pang of jealousy come back. He knew, he _knew_ Noel and Louis were ancient history- pre-attack on the Colonies, for crying out loud. But every time the man stepped near him, he was overcome with an uncharacteristic bout of insecurity, not helped by the fact that Narcho had two legs.

"Racetrack told me what happened," Narcho said, settling down beside him.

Felix closed his eyes. "Racetrack has a big mouth."

"Not really," Narcho said. "I'll give her credit, she can keep it shut when she needs to."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You don't look so good."

"I'm not," Felix admitted. He sighed and leaned his head back. "Look, Noel, I'm not trying to be rude, but do you mind if we don't talk right now? I've got one hell of a headache."

Noel nodded. "No problem. We'll talk later." He smiled, and ran a finger down the arm of his chair. "I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about."

Felix managed a smile and then closed his eyes, and they sat together in companionable silence.

***

Tom waited until they were tucked away into a privacy cubicle before he spoke.

"Will he be okay?" he asked Hoshi.

"I think so, sir," Hoshi said, glancing back at the direction of Felix's bed. "There's no physical damage, except oxygen depravation, and…" he trailed off.

"And morpha overdose," Tom said. "Not lethal, but an overdose just the same."

Hoshi fixedly kept looking away, confirming all of Tom's suspicions.

"Funny about that, isn't it?" Tom asked. "My sources tell me that there were five morpha shots found on board, all but one of them empty. Brooks was murdered with two."

"You're not going to say that Felix murdered Brooks, are you?" Hoshi bristled.

"Absolutely not. A morpha junkie isn't going to waste two doses on someone else."

"He's not a junkie!" Hoshi flared, whipping back to face Tom. "He's a frakking amputee who should still be in bed!"

"And taking enough morpha to keep a horse high!" Tom grabbed the officer by his uniform and slammed him against the wall. "What the hell were you thinking, giving him five doses of morpha?"

Hoshi pushed him away a lot harder than Tom would have expected, sending him staggering. "What I was I thinking?" he demanded. "I was thinking that both Cottle and Ishay say he should still be in bed, and he's hobbling around on a prosthetic. I was thinking of watching him struggle every single day, and lying next to him and night and knowing he's not sleeping because he's in too much pain. And I'm not talking the emotional stuff. I'd get him drunk for that, which _you'd_ obviously know about. I'm talking about knowing that the only reason he's not crying is because he's got to have _something_ left, but waking up and finding out that he was doing it anyway, and then ignoring it because that's what he needs me to do. Or the fact that Adama can't be bothered to even put a piece of metal over the steps so he can get down to his station easier, but is still expecting him to work. I'm talking about night sweats and listening to him groan every time he puts weight on that damn stump and for GODS SAKE WHY DO I NEED TO BE JUSTFIYING THIS TO YOU? Until you have to go through this, leave me the frak alone, asshole!"

"Oh yeah?" Tom shot back, and pushed Hoshi against the wall again. "Well let me tell you a few truths, Lieutenant. Your boyfriend almost died because of your consideration. My guess is he didn't wait the full eighteen hours before injecting himself with another shot. By now he's probably good and addicted, which is going to mean a nasty withdrawal. Not to mention what it will do to him if your precious Admiral Adama finds out. How fast do you think his ass will be busted down to nothing? Everything he's worked for, gone because the best solution _you_ can come up with his keeping him doped up with narcotics."

"It's more than anyone else does for him!"

"That doesn't change the fact it's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" Tom released Hoshi with a shove that sent him nowhere, since his back was already against the wall. "But that's how you get off, isn't it, Lieutenant? You like having someone to take care of, someone dependent on you. It makes you feel big and strong, because you are nothing but a weak little man in the pocket of the Admiral!"

Hoshi swung. Tom's head snapped around with the impact, and a part of him had to admit he was shocked. But Hoshi was blazing, fists clenched and furious. And not attacking any further. Tom rubbed his jaw, noting that.

"Get out," Hoshi said between clenched teeth. "Get out and go away, and we'll never mention this conversation happened."

Tom smiled blandly, and then gave a mock salute. "Of course, Lieutenant." He couldn't resist throwing over his shoulder, "I won't tell anyone what you did."

He stopped by Felix's bedside, but Felix was asleep. The pilot sitting next to him looked up at Tom worriedly. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Hoshi seems a bit upset," Tom mused sarcastically.

The pilot- Narcho, Tom finally remembered- either missed or ignored the sarcasm. "Yeah, well, can you blame him? How can you not be upset when the Admiral sides with the Cylons?"

It was a good question, right there in a nutshell. Tom nodded. "I completely agree." He nodded and turned to leave, murmuring, "It's the first day of the dawn of a new era."


	8. Chapter 8

Felix lay on his side, wrapped in Louis's arms, Louis behind him. The pain in his leg was excruciating, but he ignored it, tipped his head back and pretended pleasure. His fingers tightened on the sheets as Louis moved in him, and he clenched his eyes and jaw shut, even as pushed back against Louis desperately.

Louis groaned and stilled, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of Felix's neck. Felix breathed out slowly, threading his fingers through Louis's and squeezing. Finally, Louis pulled out and rolled to his back, still staying flush alongside him. Felix turned over, not able to completely hide his discomfort.

"We shouldn't have done that," Louis murmured guiltily. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Felix reassured him, trying to push a lock of hair behind Louis's ear and almost succeeding. "I'm glad your hair's grown out. It looks better long."

Louis considered him for a moment, and then settled against him. Felix guided his head to his shoulder, still stroking his hair. Louis closed his eyes.

"Did it work for you?" he murmured.

"I got what I wanted," Felix said, which was at least a true answer. He hadn't come- there had been no way in hell- but that wasn't what he was looking for. He was looking for this, Louis beside him, in his arms, head on his shoulder as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed Louis's forehead gently and wished he could just fall asleep here with him. But then, he wished a lot of things.

He stayed for a long while, letting his hands roam lightly over the bare skin of Louis's back and shoulders, and when he was sure he was sleeping, his face. Then he eased out from underneath him, pulled the blanket up over Louis's shoulders, and got dressed. He glanced at the clock. He had about six more hours before the withdrawal symptoms would really hit.

He hoped this wouldn't be the last time. But as he buttoned up his duty blues jacket, he suspected it was.

***

"Felix." Noel stood up and pulled a chair out, and then looked at Felix's face. "You okay?"

"Fine," Felix said, waving it off. He maneuvered himself into the chair, his body informing him there was a _reason_ Cottle probably wouldn't be smiling about the last hour's activities. "Just… let's not worry about it."

"Right." Noel looked like he wanted to argue, but must have decided it wasn't worth it. Instead, he poured them both some water and pushed a bowl Felix's way. "You're kicking a morpha addiction, aren't you?"

"Shut the frak up."

"Hey, _you_ can pretend you didn't hear Louis and Zarek arguing, but the rest of the sickbay probably did."

"I didn't hear them arguing," Felix said grumpily, "I was asleep. And since you don't seem to understand the meaning of 'shut the frak up', yes, I am kicking a _slight_ morpha addiction. Okay? Happy now?"

"You're in a good mood," Noel retorted sarcastically, but he was grinning. "But then, I suppose you've earned it."

"Thank you," Felix sniffed, grateful that at least one person on board got it. He pulled the nudged bowl of slime towards him and dutifully ate a spoonful. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked. Although he knew. He knew damn well.

Noel glanced around at the empty room like he was afraid someone might be hiding under a chair, and then leaned forward, all business. "Look," he said, "this stuff with you and the Raptor, this is just the last straw. The way Adama's acted over this? It's ridiculous."

Felix chewed slowly and then swallowed, hard. "Louis thinks he's not saying anything because the Cylons won't believe I didn't do it," he ground out. But his eyes met Noel's, and he saw the anger he felt reflected there as well. "It might be a fair point," he tried, but the words sounded robotic in his ears.

"Might be," Noel allowed. "But that was no excuse not to mount an S&amp;R mission."

"What do you mean?" Felix asked, brows furrowed and feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. "He did."

"No," Noel said, "he didn't. Felix, _Louis_ came looking for you. _He's_ the one that got the mission going. He was begging Tigh for two frakking days to let him go."

"What?" Felix whispered, his lips numb. "You're joking."

"I swear to you, I am not joking at all."

Hands were on his shoulders and they shoved him over that edge, and he was falling. Falling through spiderwebs, each strand snapping as he plummeted to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it and his eyes, and tried again. Nothing came out, although somewhere underneath he felt like he should scream.

Adama hadn't come looking for him.

For years, he'd watched the Admiral, respected him, served him. For years, he believed they'd been… well, yes, close. For years he'd seen Adama risk lives and resources to rescue Lee, to rescue Kara, to rescue Raptor and Viper pilots, to rescue Laura Roslin.

But now, when it was his turn, there was nothing.

"Felix." Noel's voice was coming from a great distance away. "Are you all right?"

No. No, he wasn't all right. He closed his eyes, and saw Adama's face before him. Telling him to get over his issues with Kara Thrace. Assigning him to the _Demetrius_. Standing over his bed, perfunctorily asking after his leg. Never investigating. Never saying much of anything. Telling him he was needed back at work after five days. Brushing right by him without a word after Dee's suicide. Telling him that they weren't pursuing the matter of an Eight killing three humans.

He exhaled, long and slow, and took another deep breath. He tried to tell himself this was an overreaction brought on by morpha withdrawal, but it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. When he looked up, Noel was watching him, slightly fearful. "A year ago," Felix said slowly, "Adama never would have done that. He would have looked for a Raptor with four humans. He would have looked…."

"He would have looked for _you_," Noel said softly.

Felix shook his head. "No," he heard himself saying. "I mean, yes, he would have. But this can't be about me. It has to be about all of us, the Fleet, the people. He hasn't just let me down, Noel. It's everyone. He's…"

"He's what?"

Felix shook his head. "I remember this night on New Caprica," he said slowly. "I was in my office, and I was reading the Articles. Do you know I hadn't read the Articles since I was in fifth grade, when it was required reading for everyone? I mean, I knew what was in them, but I hadn't read them."

"Yeah," Noel said dubiously.

"How long has it been since you really read the oath we take in the Fleet? I mean, really read it? We don't swear our allegiance to a man, Noel. Or to a ship. We swear our allegiance to protect the people of the Colonies. _Our_ people. It shouldn't matter who was out there in that Raptor, if it was Roslin or Starbuck or me or a random civilian from the _Prometheus_. He should have gone after it. But more than that, he shouldn't have led us this way. He shouldn't have led the people to believe that Earth was the only solution."

"Hell," Noel cut in, obviously releasing a thought he'd kept bottled up, "what if we'd gotten there, it had been great, and the Cylons had followed us and blown it all up anyway? Not only would we be gone, but another entire world of people."

They stared at each other, both chilled at the thought.

Felix pushed his bowl away, and Noel quietly pushed it back. Felix glared at him, but Noel stared back evenly, and Felix sighed and picked up the spoon and continued eating. As he mechanically chewed and swallowed, he felt like he was drifting away, watching himself and Noel sitting at the table.

"I've already half-worked it out, you know, if we have to go that way," he said.

Noel didn't ask what he meant. He just raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It was back when we knew the Cylons could look like us, but we didn't know anything else. I thought maybe they were taking people and replacing them with Cylons. Anyway, I figured that if I was the Cylons, my chief target would be Adama. And if Adama turned out the be a Cylon… well, we were going to need a way to deal with it. Quickly."

"You scare me," Noel said, but he grinned. "Only you would plot mutiny as an extra credit assignment."

_Mutiny_. It was the first time either of them had said the word, and Felix felt a jolt pass through him at the acknowledgement. _Mutiny._ Against _Adama._

And something in him finally died.

***

"Right," Adama said, striding into Tom's office. "Let's get this over with."

"Excuse me," Tom said, sitting up in his chair and glancing significantly at Lee, dogging Adama's footsteps. "What's he doing here? Wait, let me guess. _I don't have to answer to you._"

"You're catching on," Adama said. Lee opened his mouth to say something, but both men ignored him. Tom could barely look at him. Any affection he might have once felt for Lee had vanished the day Lee assumed the Presidency. He'd always thought the boy had had more regard for democracy than that, but when push came to shove, Lee Adama was just as big a hypocrite as anyone else in this damn Fleet.

"I don't think we'll have much to say anyway," Lee told Tom, in an annoyingly patronizing manner. "The press will be eager to talk to the Admiral."

"As I said," Adama said, moving towards the press room, "let's get this over with."

Tom had no choice but to follow.

The crowded press room was nothing new to him, but under professional veneers and determined faces, Tom saw desperation and despair. These people needed hope. They needed a plan. They needed some reason to go on, and as Adama stood there and did his best to avoid answering questions, they weren't finding it. He seethed in frustration.

And yet, the questions kept coming. "Admiral Adama, what do you think…?"

"Admiral Adama, what are you going to do about…?"

"Admiral Adama, is the President…?"

"Admiral Adama, when will you…?"

"Admiral Adama-"

"Admiral Adama-"

"Admiral!"

They were calling to him, begging to him, and the man stood there, a wall of stone, refusing to see it. And _they_ refused to see _that_, that Adama wasn't listening. That Adama had broken, had given up, but wouldn't let go. They still heaped all of their hopes on his shoulders, even when there was someone else willing to carry them.

"Admiral Adama. Is it true that you're contemplating forming a permanent alliance with the rebel Cylons currently in this Fleet?" Sekou asked, his voice breaking through Tom's anger.

"I'm not going to talk about hypotheticals," Adama growled. It was as good as a _yes_.

The buzzing started in his ears. An alliance with the Cylons. Tom flashed back to that day in his cell, when they'd heard the worlds had ended. Even on the _Astral Queen_ there was silence, shock, and grief. These men were criminals, but they all had someone that they loved, someone that was gone. He remembered New Caprica, and the sound of Centurians marching down a street, destroying the life they were trying to build. He remembered four months of detention and torture, and the misery on board as they returned. Running, frantic and desperate and losing- always losing. And now Adama was going to allow the very people who had perpetrated this in their Fleet permanently? The anger choked him, but when Sekou turned to him and demanded, "Mr. Vice President, would you support such a move?", he snapped back to reality.

If he'd believed in the Gods and portents and signs, this one would have been blazing neon, telling him what he had to do. And now was a perfect opportunity. He didn't _want_ to answer the question. If he came out right now and said "no", it would be an open gesture of defiance too early. Nothing would be accomplished. Nothing would change, except Adama would manage to find a reason to put him out the airlock in the next twenty four hours. But if he waited… if he let his disapproval be known in no way that could be faulted… he stood in silence for a long, long time.

Finally, he glanced at Adama with an expression that he was sure had to be read as servile. "No comment."

It evoked exactly the reaction he was looking for: anger, frustration. Fury. An explosion of voices, all clamoring for answers. He hid his smile behind a mask of obedience.

Playa's voice rang out over the babble. "Where is President Roslin?"

The room quieted, and Tom moved towards the microphone. After all, _he_ was the voice of the civilian government. But Lee cut him off, jumping over to the podium with the agility of a frog. Or an eager puppy dog, determined to impress its master. He forced a smile that he must have felt was genuine, but clearly announced that he did not like the question. "Thank you, Playa! The President is resting comfortably aboard the _Galactica_. Last question. Sekou?"

"Do you have any more information on the identity of the fifth Cylon?"

Lee shifted uncomfortable. "Uh, we believe the fifth Cylon to be dead."

"But you're not sure?"

"No, but we believe she died some time ago."

_She?_ Tom's silent furious shout was echoed by the reporters. "She?"

"How do you know it was a woman?" someone pounced, and Lee's smile became even more forced, if that was possible.

"That was the last question," he said awkwardly, and spun around to leave the room. Tom followed, because if he stayed out here it would become obvious just how little he knew. But as soon as the door closed, he was on them.

"What was that about?" he demanded.

"Forget about it," Adama growled.

The truth was that the identity of the fifth Cylon mattered very little to Tom. It wasn't Adama and he was pretty sure it wasn't Roslin, and he was quite sure it wasn't himself. Tom decided to go for what actually mattered.

"A permanent alliance between this government and the Cylons - any Cylons - is out of the question. I hope you both know that."

"Yeah?" Lee demanded, sounding like a schoolyard bully's sidekick. "Well, it's not your call."

He kept his cool, smiling mockingly. "Is it yours? Are you the President again? Sorry, I get confused what job is on any given day."

"Laura Roslin's still the President," Adama said. "She'll make the final call."

"And where is Laura Roslin? Oh, that's right, resting comfortably aboard _Galactica._ Funny how she kind of dropped out of sight since her 'prophecies' about Earth turned out to be a bunch of crap."

It hit, and it felt good. Adama didn't react, but Tom could see that shot went straight to his heart. Good. "We're done here," Adama said.

Lee gave him the look of a kid who… well, who was convinced his father could beat him up, and then left. But Tom wasn't done.

"If you try to shove an alliance with the Cylons down our throats, they'll be consequences, Admiral. I promise you," Tom said through clenched teeth.

"Thank you, Mr. Zarek. Makes it a little bit easier to know who to hold responsible if there's an unfortunate incident."

He met the challenge with none of the servility he had shown in the press room. "I'm not hard to find, Admiral. I'm right here. Running the government."

"For now," Adama intoned, and turned and stalked off. and then followed.

Tom watched him go, like he was watching him walk into darkness. And really, he was.

***

Felix limped down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutches and swearing abundantly. The Admiral _still_ wasn't listening. It wasn't even that he wouldn't admit he might be wrong… it was that he wasn't even _listening_ to any other viewpoint. That, more than anything, burned him up, his soul and his heart shriveling like scraps of paper in the fire. His stomach turned over, but he wasn't sure if that was his inner turmoil or the morpha withdrawal.

The hatch opened behind him, and he heard footsteps.

"Lieutenant Gaeta." Tigh's voice would allow for no disobedience, so Felix stopped and turned.

"Colonel?"

"What the frak was that?"

"What was what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Tigh said, stepping right up to him. "You know damn well what I mean."

For a moment, the anger in Tigh's face quelled him, took him back to those days after New Caprica, standing in the CIC as Tigh chewed him out in front of everyone. But this time, he wasn't backing down. This time, he didn't respect the… he didn't respect Tigh, didn't trust him, didn't care what he thought. "Allowing the Cylons access to our ships engines and FTL drives is insane, no matter what the Admiral thinks. You don't even know how that technology works! Give me one good reason that we should trust them!"

"The Admiral trusts them, and that right there is all the reason you need, Lieutenant." Tigh grabbed him by the jacket, and Felix had to struggle for a moment just to stay upright. "Now, I know you think you've had an especially hard time of it lately, but wake up and look around you. _Everyone's_ life sucks, and you're no frakking exception. So shut the hell up and fall into line, soldier!"

Felix glared back. "This is not about me, sir," he hissed. "This isn't a whim. There's evidence that we can't trust the Cylons, I've given you that. This is about the Fleet, it's about protecting the people from the Cylons. But you wouldn't get that, would you?"

To his amazement, Tigh almost started laughing. "You keep telling yourself that, Felix," he said, his voice edged with venom. "You keep believing that you're doing this for justice, when really all you want is personal vengeance. And after you throw an innocent man out an airlock, you come to me and we'll talk. Until then, you remember your duty and your place, Lieutenant." He pushed Felix away and walked away, and although he was chuckling it was the bitterest sound Felix had ever heard.

And there it was, in front of him. Adama would not be swayed from this course of action. And neither would he.

***

Louis was in the racks when he returned to grab a few things. Felix could barely stand to look at him, because he knew what was coming and he knew now he had to do this, and Gods, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Hey," Louis said, looking up and smiling at him. "Where'd you sneak off to?"

"The meeting with Adama," Felix said.

"How did it go?"

"Not well. He's not only going forward with the alliance with the Cylons, but that idea Tyrol had? They're upgrading the ships- _all_ of the ships- using Cylon technology."

Louis whistled between his teeth. "That's not going to go over well."

"As well it shouldn't. Even Tyrol can't tell us the first thing about the technology. Why should we trust it?"

"Well, the Cylons are rebels," Louis pointed out. "And they did give us the Hub."

"But what if Cavil's baseships can hack into it? What if they can control it on their own?"

Louis rolled his eyes. "Spoken like a true Galactian."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Felix bristled.

"Oh, come _on_, Felix. You know the entire Fleet thought Adama was a superstitious joke because he refused to network the _Galactica_. Hell, you've laughed about it as much as anyone."

"And he turned out to be right," Felix pointed out. "That's what he seems to be forgetting. He was _right_, and that's why we survived."

"It's not why _we_ survived," Louis said.

"Is too. Your systems were down for repairs."

"We-" Louis opened his mouth, and then closed it again. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Let's not go there now, Felix," Louis said. "We're just going to regret it."

Right. Saying something to Louis about Cain was pretty much the equivalent of arguing with Adama about Tigh… or himself about Tom, he supposed. He got that. And besides, this wasn't the way it needed to end. He nodded, and then grabbed Louis by the neck and pulled him in for one last kiss.

"Hey," Louis said with that little almost-smile, "don't get me all riled up. I have duty."

"I know." Felix turned towards the hatch. "I've got a meeting myself."

"A meeting?" Louis asked, holding Felix's elbow as he clambered out of the hatch. "With who?"

"Zarek."

"Zarek?"

"Look, I know you don't like him," Felix began, heart in his throat. Maybe…

"No, I don't," Louis said flatly. "He's manipulative and power hungry."

Well, that answered any lingering doubts. "You know how you told me earlier let's not go there?" he asked. "This is my _let's not go there._"

"All right. But Felix… Felix, I don't understand. Why would you set up a meeting with him, of all people?"

"I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it."

"What are you doing?!" Louis demanded.

_The quicker you do it, the less painful it will be,_ he told himself. He gripped Louis's shoulder, taking in his face for what he was sure was the last time… at least like this. "Look," he said. "You found me and you saved me, so I'll protect you. But if this doesn't work out, and if I'm wrong… you have a bright future, Louis."

"What are you talking about? If what doesn't work?"

"Keep your head down," Felix warned him. He opened a bulkhead and went through, and tried not to listen to Louis calling after him.

The door clanged behind him, and he would have thought he would burst into tears. But curiously, he felt nothing, just a sense of purpose that propelled him to the hangar bay.

"Racetrack," he said, when he caught sight of her, "can you get me over to the _Astral Queen_? I've got a meeting."

She knew. He could see it in the defiant lift of her chin and her smile, and she approved. "Right away, Lieutenant."

***

"We won't stand for it," Captain Doval told Tom in the _Astral Queen_'s dining hall. "Having the Cylons tamper with our FTL drive… there's absolutely no way."

"And that should be every ship's right to decide for themselves, Captain," Tom agreed fervently. "When the Quorum meets tomorrow, I'll be telling them that." He picked up a bowl and headed towards the door. "I hate to leave on such a short notice, but there's work that needs to be done."

"Of course," Doval said.

It was an unneeded comfort that Doval was so opposed to this scheme of Adama's. He smiled, patting the man's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and then eased his way out of the mess hall. He had too much to do, too much to process….

And when he arrived at his quarters, he saw he also had company. Felix was standing outside the door, sweating and shaking and looking more disheveled than Tom had ever seen him. He was gripping a small bag, and leaning heavily on his crutches.

"Felix. What are you doing here? What's going on?"

Felix looked up at him. "We need to talk," was all he said. Tom nodded and unlocked his hatch.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, setting his bowl down on his desk.

"No," Felix said, shaking his head. "It will just come up anyway."

Tom looked at the young man again, and realized what was happening. "You're going off the morpha all at once, aren't you?"

"Don't have much of a choice. Not if I'm going to do what needs to be done." Felix ran a hand through his curls, and shook it irritably. "Cottle gave me some medicine that he said would help, but he said the first twelve hours were still going to be rough." He sneezed.

"You said what needs to be done…" Tom said slowly. "What do you mean? And for crying out loud, sit down before you fall down."

Felix ignored him. "This can't happen," he said. "This alliance…"

"It's not going to happen," Tom reassured him.

Felix looked at him wildly. "Yes, it is," he said. "As long as Adama's in charge, it will happen." He finally sat down, eyes unfocused. "Tom," he said abruptly, "I really hate to ask this, but can I stay in the _Astral Queen_'s infirmary tonight?"

"What about Hoshi?"

Emotion flickered over Felix's face, intense and sharp and fleeting. "That's part of why I want to stay here tonight," he said. "We're not together any more."

"You're kidding."

"No. And what's it to you? I'm surprised you're not dancing around the room already."

"That would be a bit callous. But last time I saw you two together, I thought I was going to need a crowbar to get you apart from each other. Now you're telling me it's over? Who ended it?"

"I did." Felix was shaking. "He can't know about… I can't…." He shook his head in frustration, still private in this particular pain, and unable to voice the words.

The words that Tom knew, somehow. Somewhere deep inside him, he saw the future forming, and what was coming. The world was shattering, and there was no magic solution this time. There were no prophecies, no acts of the Gods, no saving graces. There were only broken promises, shams, and dictatorial sacrifices. And there was no one to fix it.

Bill Adama and Laura Roslin had failed. They'd failed themselves, they'd failed their mission, they'd failed their _people_. All of their people, even the ones they refused to see. The civilians. The people of the Fleet. The Sagittarons. The tylium workers, the mechanics, the people who processed algae… the people who huddled on ships with no relevant skills, but were shipped from jump coordinates to jump coordinates, always afraid for the lives which were completely out of their hands. The people who didn't have their ear, who didn't have a voice. The people they wouldn't listen to.

Billy Kiekeya. Ray and Sesha Abinell. Jean Barolay. Helena Cain. George Chu. Ellen Tigh. Tucker Clellan and Nora Farmer. Maya Gabalondon. Cally Henderson Tyrol. Marshall Bagot. Anastasia Dualla. They'd failed them all.

They'd failed Tom Zarek. And they'd failed Felix Gaeta.

Felix was shaking, still standing, leaning heavily on his crutch. Tom stood up and shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Stay here tonight," he ordered him. "If you go to the infirmary, people will know, and that will only make your job harder. Stay here, take the bed. I'll help you through it."

For a moment, Felix looked like he was going to argue, and then a shudder wracked his frame and he nodded. "Thank you."

Tom smiled. "Of course."

***

It was a long night, a night with no dawn. The ticking of the clock seemed loud, despite their conversation. They sat together, Felix in the bed, Tom in the chair beside him. They talked, not of rebellion and insurrection, but of inconsequential matters. Of the people they'd loved, of the families they'd had, of New Caprica. Phantom pains and withdrawal tremors shook Felix, and when it got too hard, Tom took his hand without comment, and Felix clung to it like a trusting child.

Another last time. Another last love. Because when this went forward, when these plans shifted into action, their personal relationship couldn't matter. Father and son, friend and friend, brothers in arms… whatever they were, it had to be locked away, forgotten, ignored. The civilian government and the military had to check each other, to balance each other, to watch each other to make sure that each side was watching out for the people they were meant to serve. That was the mistake that Roslin and Adama had made; they no longer could serve as each other's balance. They were too personal.

They couldn't let it be personal.

There was no sun to break the darkness, no dawn to light the world. No new day to call their own. But a few hours before the alarm, Felix finally drifted into a restless sleep, and Tom slept in the chair beside him, their hands still joined. But when they woke, they pulled away from each other, no words needing to be spoken.

They suited up. They locked away what was precious. And now they were ready to go to war.

***

Felix sat in the Raptor trying not to shiver. Cottle had assured him that the meds he'd given him would make the experience significantly easier, but it was still anything but easy. And in addition to the withdrawal symptoms, the pain in his leg was now constant, varying from throbbing to intense. None of which was helped at all by being in a Raptor again. But he _had_ to do it.

Something had happened last night, something he couldn't put his finger on. Something had shifted from idea to action, and something had shifted within himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of Louis, but he couldn't pull up an image. All he could think about was what needed to be done, what he had to do.

So that's the way it was going to be. Strangely, he felt calm inside. Not peaceful, just… purposeful. Calm. Prepared.

Racetrack glanced back at him. "Almost there, Felix," she said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He checked his watch, and then straightened up in his seat. "I've got an hour before duty, and I'm supposed to meet Narcho for breakfast. You two should join us." His tone was half invitation, half order.

Racetrack and Skulls looked at each other and smiled. "Sounds good to us, sir," Skulls said, and Felix knew he'd been exactly right.

***

"People are pissed," Racetrack said, ignoring her breakfast and leaning on the table. "They'll come."

"Who, though?" Felix asked, looking at them. "Who's pissed that we can trust? Not just mechanics and Marines and grunts, but people who can command?"

"Most of the old guard are out," Noel said. "Tigh, Tyrol, Starbuck… they're the ones that will never turn against Adama. But if you look to some of the younger soldiers, maybe some of the _Pegasus_ people…"

"That's a good point," Skulls agreed. "The _Pegasus_ crowd hasn't been happy with the way that the ship's been run from the beginning. Too different from Cain."

"_Admiral_ Cain," Narcho corrected stiffly, and Felix kicked Skulls under the table with his good leg before it could turn into an argument. He turned to Narcho.

"All right. Who do you recommend from the _Pegasus_?"

"Might be able to bust Stinger out of the brig," Narcho said. "And Limbern can head up the Marines."

"Great." Felix rubbed his nose and then sneezed again. He pulled his duty blues jacket tighter around his shoulders. Fortunately, the others didn't seem to notice anything was amiss, or were too polite to say so.

"What about Hoshi?" Narcho said cautiously.

"No."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Enough to know he's not going to jump on board." Felix shook his head. "Just as well. I think I need to do it alone in the CIC. That's the one place where there's no give. Adama's right there. Someone gets cold feet… someone even gets _nervous_ and the whole takeover could be over before it even begins. I can't afford to trust _anyone_ in the CIC."

"What are you going to do with the CIC staff?" Racetrack asked.

"Take them into custody. Immediately- at least the senior staff. We'll sort them out after." He looked down at his carefully coded notes. "What I'm going to need is someone who can take the tactical station once this gets going."

They were all silent for a moment. Finally, Narcho flipped his hand. "Gage," he said resignedly.

Felix groaned inwardly. "Any other options?"

"Nope."

"Not that I can think of," Racetrack said.

"Sinker has ECO training and could probably do it, but I don't think you'll sway her over from Adama," Skulls said.

"Well, Gage it is. At least I don't have to worry that he'll change his mind on me." Felix noted it down. "Who else can we count on?"

They went through the list. There were names on there that Felix wasn't thrilled about. Charlie Conner with his Sons of Ares. Diana Seelix, whom he had to admit was a good choice. Vireem. It didn't take long.

"Right," he said, stacking the papers together. "Racetrack and Skulls, I need you to get going. Start feeling out the pilots, the Marines, even civilians." They both nodded, and Felix caught Racetrack's eye. "When we take over, we need to have a command structure in place immediately," he told her. "You're CAG."

"Yes, sir." She and Narcho shared a brief look of surprise, and then she left with Skulls.

"So. Racetrack's CAG, and you're not telling Louis about this," Narcho said.

"Right." Felix sighed heavily. "Noel, you know how this can end, right? If we don't get this right…."

"It's the firing squad, or just an airlocking if Adama doesn't want to waste bullets," Noel said. "I'm under no illusions."

"Neither am I. If we're taken down, I'm betting Adama will spare anyone who pledges loyalty back to him… anyone except the command structure. If we go down, I'm dead. And so is my XO. I want you to be clear on that, because when we take control, you're XO."

Noel nodded. "Crystal clear, sir." He looked down at the table. "That's why you're not telling Louis, isn't it?"

"Well, I wasn't lying when I said I don't know if he'd go along with it. But yes, that's why I'm not telling him. I…" something inside him cracked, threatening to break free, and he angrily shoved it away. "I'm not giving him the choice. He goes into the brig as soon as the mutiny begins. He should be physically safe there, but more than that, if we go down and the time comes for Adama to ask questions, he's safe then, too. I'll go down, and I'm willing to take my friends with me. But I won't take Louis."

Narcho smiled. "Good," he said, and extended his hand. "Then I believe, sir, we both have duty to attend to. I'll see you after your shift." He stood and saluted.

"Noel?" Felix said as he walked out the door.

"Yes?"

"Do you still love him?"

Narcho smiled. "Not like you do. But we all have to have something to protect. You and he are the best I've got."

***

The memo sat on the desk before them, thirteen perfect copies, with the signature of the Admiral. Innocuous pieces of paper informing them that the Cylons would be upgrading the FTL drives of each and every ship, whether people wanted these measures or not. And that there would be a permanent alliance with the Cylons in the Fleet, where they would have access to all of the ships, the same rights as any Colonial citizen, and a seat on the Quorum.

"They can't do this," Chronides fumed. "There is no way we will allow this. Quorum representation? Civil rights?" Her words were met with assent from the others. "There is no forgiveness for what they've done," she continued. "There's no forgetting."

"The Admiral is not asking people to forgive and forget," Lee said. "Neither is the President. But we're running out of options. If Cavil catches up with us before we find a habitable planet, we're dead in the water."

"The _Galactica_ is dead in the water," Orimosis pointed out. "The FTL drives on the civilian ships are in better condition."

"But for how much longer?" Lee demanded. "How much longer can we rely on that? And why should the people rely on that, when there's a better option available?"

"If you consider using Cylon technology a better option," Cantrell said. "Although I admit it may be. But the fact is that what Adama and Roslin are… should I say proposing? Probably not. But what they are _ordering_ goes against the Articles. Why don't they just declare martial law and be done with it?"

"No. Martial law is not an option," Lee said.

"Then why pretend? Why the pretense? Why are we sitting here, like our voices matter?"

"Because they should." Tom stood up. "Because this is democracy, this is about the people of the Fleet. And even as our circumstances become more desperate, we should never forget that."

He took a deep breath. "In prison you start to confuse your hopes and dreams with reality. You start to believe that because you want something to happen. Parole, a pardon, appeal, a writ. You start to believe that it _will_ happen. You live on wishes the way things should be instead of the way they are. And all because you can't face reality. The leaders of this Fleet are starting to succumb to wishful thinking because they can't face reality. And the reality is that the Adama-Roslin administration has led us nowhere.

"Earth was a mirage. A fantasy they dangled in front of us for four long years in order to maintain power. A fantasy they dreamed up as a way to hold on and control the government. Over the democratic wishes of the population. So now, what does our feckless and dispirited leadership doing to solidify their position after failing us so miserably? Turning to the Cylons. The Cylons...for help! Heh!" He looked directly at Lee. "Aren't the Cylons the reason we're out here in the first place? Aren't they the enemy!?! Or are they suddenly our friends if that helps keep Roslin-Adama in power!?"

"Point of order," Lee interrupted. "The chair needs to bring a motion and not make a speech."

Tom allowed a sarcastic smile. "Thank you Mr. Adama. The chair moves that any decision on allowing Cylons to board any ship in the fleet be made by the Captain and any people living on that ship and _not_ the Roslin- Adama administration!"

He could see the approval on their faces, and the anger and the purpose surged through him. This was what the people needed- a voice to speak out for them, to fight. Someone to say that what Adama and Roslin were forcing was morally wrong.

Lee protested, looking desperate. "What we need right now is unity! This is a Fleet-wide issue. We need to stand together. It affects all of us!"

Cantrell raised his hand. "Sagittaron calls the question."

"Tauron seconds."

"Question has been called and seconded. All in favor?" Every hand except Lee's went up. "All opposed?" Lee obligingly raised his hand. "Vote is 11 to 1. The motion carriers: _No Cylon will board a ship in this Fleet without permission of its people._"

The Quorum broke into applause, and began shaking hands. Tom couldn't help the feeling of triumph that flooded his veins, even as Lee Adama crept out of the room. But even as he shook the hands of the Quorum, he knew this was far from over, and there was no way that Adama and Rolsin were going to allow this motion to stand.

***

"You're sure about this," Jed Temlin, captain of the _Hitei Kan_ said, studying the paper Tom had pushed in front of him.

"Positive." Tom leaned in.

"And the Admiral is really going to do this? He's ordering Marine escorts with the Cylon mechanics?"

"Force has been authorized in this case." Tom tapped the relevant paragraph.

Temlin shook his head angrily. "I will not stand to have them aboard my ship," he told Tom roughly. "I can't stand to look at those frakking toasters. It's been four years, but I still can't fathom what's happened. Every morning I wake up, and for just a moment I think 'maybe we can go home today' or 'I wonder what my wife and kids are doing'. And every morning it all comes crashing down again, and I remember. And there's no way I'm forgetting. And there's no way I'm forgetting that _every last one of those damn toasters_ was in on it. That's the thing, see. It's not like it was some fringe group of terrorists," he said, flicking his eyes to Tom meaningfully. "It was all of them. _All_ of them. Maybe Adama and Roslin can forget that, but me and my people… we can't."

"You're not the only ones. Several other captains have broached me with the exact same concerns," Tom said. "But you're the one that can make a difference. You're the one who can make that statement. I have a copy of the schedule for the FTL upgrades, and the _Hitei Kan_ is first on the list. I know that what I'm asking isn't easy, but your people are the hope for this Fleet."

"It's not easy," Captain Temlin agreed, "but it's right." He set his jaw and stood up. "We'll do it, Mr. Zarek."

"Thank you, Jed." Tom stood up to shake his hand. "And you won't be doing this alone."

***

Tom sat in the office, tapping his pen on the desk. It wasn't so much nerves as the insatiable need for action. This time it was really going to happen. He thumbed through his papers, looking at the notes that Felix had given him on his ideas for a settlement. It was far from perfect, but it was more than Roslin or Adama could come up with. And it was the most anyone had offered at this point. He stared at the abrupt pencil sketches that mapped out a plan for a future. He smiled.

The phone rang, shrill and shattering the silence. Tom grabbed it immediately.

"Zarek."

"Zarek." Temlin's voice was anxious, just as it was meant to be. "They tried to board us. The crew… they didn't take any prompting at all. They killed one of the Cylons, and two of the Marines."

They were ready. They were completely ready. Tom's heart pounded faster in excitement. "It's going to be all right, Captain," he said soothingly. "We-"

"The Dradis," Temlin interrupted, pitching his voice into a more frantic tone. "The Dradis shows a Raptor and Vipers heading straight for us! They'll be here any minute!"

Tom nodded. He'd seen that one coming from a mile away. He was sure that the _Galactica_ CIC must be listening in on this call by now. Every word counted. "They have no right to board your ship without permission."

"What should we do Mr. Vice President?"

And that was the signal. Tom gave the counter signal. "Every citizen has the right to protect themselves from oppression. Take whatever measures you think necessary."

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank _you._"

He hung up the phone and smiled. And then put down the pen, stood up, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

He heard the bootsteps first, and raised his eyebrows as the Cylon called Athena walked in. Interesting choice of an emissary on Adama's part, and a mistake. The crew of the _Galactica_ might accept her as one of them- even Gaeta didn't seem to have a problem with her- but the Fleet was another story all together. "Lieutenant Agathon," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do for you?"

She raised her gun and pointed it at him. "You can come quietly," she said. "Or we'll drag your dead carcass to the Admiral."

For a fleeting moment, he debated kicking up a little fuss. Just enough that he'd have to be quelled, just enough that they'd drag him out of the _Colonial One_ kicking and screaming. It wouldn't be terribly dignified, but it would certainly make a statement. But as he looked at the expression on the Cylon's face, he figured he'd be smart to come quietly.

"Ladies first," he said mockingly, bowing and gesturing to the door.

The photographer who just "happened" to be waiting around on _Colonial One_ would get a good picture regardless.

***

"Felix." Louis grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him aside roughly in the corridor. "What the frak was that?"

"What the frak was what?" Felix demanded. "You saw what the Admiral did! Louis, that was…"

"I know that. You know that. But last time I checked, you are an officer of the Colonial Fleet, and you could get your ass tossed into the brig for talking like you just did to the brass before I cut you off. Is that what you're trying to do, Felix?"

"Louis, don't worry about it. It doesn't concern you any more."

Louis's eyes searched his face, and then suddenly he yanked Felix in close. Felix nearly lost his balance but Louis caught him, his mouth hungry on Felix's. For a moment, he couldn't help but respond, losing himself in the ferocity of the kiss. But then reason reasserted itself. If they were caught like this, no one would ever believe it was over between them a few days ago. He broke the kiss and pushed Louis away.

"Stop."

Louis's jaw was set. "Why? I don't understand this. Whatever's going on with you-"

"Whatever's going on with me has got nothing to do with you, okay?" Felix shouted. His voice echoed off the metal of the walls, and he cringed. "Let it go, Louis. Believe me, it's for the best."

Louis's eyes narrowed. "Did you know something about the _Hitei Kan_ jumping?" he asked. "Do you know where it is?"

Felix shook his head. "I had no idea that was going to happen," he answered honestly. "I'm not surprised, but I didn't know." Louis's gaze was still piercing through him, and Felix was extremely glad that it was the truth.

Finally, Louis just shook his head. "Look," he said, and he sounded exhausted. "I know that you're going through a lot right now. I understand that. But you know how I still feel about you, and when I kissed you… I know you still feel the same about me."

Louis's words were coming dangerously close to breaking through his defenses. Felix looked away. "I do," he said, the words tearing out of him, because Louis had to know that that was the truth. "Moreso, if you want the truth."

"So let me just ask one thing. When this is all over, and you've… done whatever you want to do, will there be a chance for us again?"

Felix swallowed hard. "Louis," he said, "if there's ever going to be a chance for us again, believe me, I will be the one that's groveling, not you."

"But-"

Felix tightened his grip on his crutch. "Goodbye," he told Louis firmly, and turned and walked away. And when he turned and glanced back, Louis was gone.

_Just as well_, he told himself. _It's better this way._

***

"Felix," Noel said, raising a hand. Felix balanced his tray, trying to maneuver over to the table without spilling food or drink. At least the worst of the morpha withdrawal shakes were gone. He struggled over to the table and Noel belatedly stood up, taking the dishes from him and helping him get settled.

"Thanks." Felix sat and rubbed his temples. Between the _Hitei Kan_ and Louis, he should be exhausted. But there was an energy burning inside him, and he was finding it hard to sit still. "How's it going?"

"Good," Noel said, eating as mindlessly as possible. "I've got a lot of people who agree with me that this food is complete slop."

"Good to hear," Felix said. "Did you find forks for all the people who think the food is slop?"

"Actually, that was easy. One of the people who can't stand the food is an armed master chef. She's going to get us into the cutlery drawers. We'll have all the forks we need."

"Figured that would be the case." Felix chewed carefully. "I need a few of the Marines. Ones you're sure we can trust, that have brig access."

"Brig access?"

Felix leaned in. "Adama brought in Zarek," he said, glancing around. "Hauled him in for Zarek telling the _Hitei Kan_ that they didn't have to let a Cylon crew board them or the _Galactica_ raptor board. Zarek was quoting the Articles at Captain Temlin, and Adama's had him hauled in for it."

"You're kidding." Noel goggled.

"I wish I was. I'm sure the story is going to be in the paper tomorrow, but we've got to act before then."

"How soon?"

Felix took a deep breath. "Let me get to Zarek, and get him into place. Let me make sure he's committed to this." Noel snorted at that, and Felix ignored it. "But it's got to be soon, before someone says the wrong thing to the wrong person, or changes their mind."

"Got it. Hey, I also talked to Gage. _Pegasus_ slop was a bit different than _Galactica_ slop. You want to give him your secret recipe?"

"Yeah, I'd better do that. Is he around now?"

"I think so."

"Go get him. I'll take him through it right now."

Noel nodded and stood up, and as he left, Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose. It all had a strange, unreal quality about it, and some part of him- the part he'd slammed and locked the door on- couldn't believe he was doing this. But more of them couldn't believe he had to.

To his surprise, Gage was relatively intelligent and picked up the basics of the tactical station quickly- at least on paper. Felix took him through it quickly, very aware that there was no way this guy was going to do the job as well as he could… or as well as Louis could. He forced that thought from his mind, focusing on it.

"What about the Cylons?" Gage asked him. "The ones who live on _Galactica_? What are you doing about them?"

"Taking them into custody," Felix said.

"Not shooting them?"

"No. Look, there are six Cylons we really need to worry about. The final four we need to keep as bargaining chips, although one of them may have to…" he broke off, because the idea of actually _killing_ Colonel Tigh was difficult to put into words. "Caprica Six and Athena have to be neutralized."

"Be better to just shoot them," Gage opined.

"_No_," Felix said angrily. "Look, if you're in on this, there's something you have to be very clear on, okay? I'm not doing this for power or for control, or for revenge. I'm doing this because it has to be done, because Adama and Roslin aren't listening to the people anymore. They aren't protecting the people anymore. People are going to have to die in this revolution. I know that. But that's not the point. We kill as few people as we need to kill."

Gage stared at him. "They're toasters, boss."

"Be that as it may, those are my orders. Got that, Specialist?"

It hung in the air between them. Finally, Gage gave a salute. "Yes, sir."

***

Another prison cell. Tom idly wondered how many cells he'd been in. It was a statement when he could comment that this cot was one of the more comfortable he'd slept on, and at least this cell had plumbing.

The hatch clanged open, and Tom didn't even bother to look up. He didn't need to- even Adama's footsteps defined him. Besides, the only other person he expected had very different footsteps indeed.

There was a loud thwack, and a thick folder landed in front of him as Adama sat down. "Sworn statements," he said. "Transcripts of wireless conversations. Shipping records. All kinds of documents, really. Compiled over the last year with one theme. The buying and the selling of the Vice President's office."

"This is extortion," Tom said, just to clarify.

"This is about law and order, but you can call it what you want."

Tom snorted. Law and order. He idly wondered what Adama had in that file. Adama was wrong about the motivations, but Tom was plenty honest with himself to know there was enough he'd done that would make that sort of file very interesting reading for a jury.

"I believe that you would walk happily to the gallows, or languish in a cell for the rest of your life, if you could do it as a martyr to your cause. But the idea of being publicly humiliated as a corrupt politician, with your hand in the till? Well, that would scare you. Somehow I don't think that the legend and the myth of Tom Zarek, the political prisoner and a man of conscience, can survive the airing of that much dirty laundry."

Tom inhaled quietly, and looked at the folder. "Do you really think that the Fleet is going to sit by for a long and politically motivated trial while you make an Alliance with the Cylons?"

"Without the tylium ship, we're not going anywhere," Adama said. "At least they won't be bored."

"You think I know where the _Hitei Kan_ is," Tom said, inwardly amused.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because I know that you do. Read the file," he said, standing. "Some juicy stuff. Makes a great story for the press."

Tom considered the file again, watching Adama retreat. He was exactly where he needed to be… three… two… one…

"Murder and extortion."

Adama froze.

Tom reached into his jacket and pulled out a note pad. "You know what the difference between you and I Admiral? You wear that uniform, and I don't."

He wrote the coordinates of the _Hitei Kan_ on the notepad, and then crumpled the paper and tossed it at Adama imperiously. Adama came back and retrieved it, studying the coordinates, and picked up the file as well.

"You can cool your heels here until we check these out. I wouldn't eat the food." Adama turned on his heel and left.

Once he was gone, Tom allowed himself to smile. That couldn't have gone any better than if he'd written the script himself.

***

It was late when he heard the distinctive sound of a man limping on a metal prosthetic, dragging himself on crutches. And he was not at all surprised when a Marine let Felix- no, Gaeta- into the cell.

"Mr. Vice President," Gaeta said, and Tom smiled grimly at the formality, knowing that he understood it just as well. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Have a seat." Tom pulled the chair Adama had used around so Gaeta could sit. He did so awkwardly, and Tom leaned in to help him. Gaeta smiled up at him, because even though they were keeping this distant, they both knew the truth, but then immediately retreated back into the smooth formality Tom had seen time and time again in crisis. "Are you better?" he asked.

"Much, thank you. Physically, anyway. But there's something we need to discuss, and I can't guarantee us much time," He glanced significantly at the door, where the Marine was on the lookout.

"Tell me what what's going on."

"You're not the only one who's not happy about the alliance, or the Admiral and the President trampling on people's liberties. This isn't right, and I don't have to list off the reasons for you to agree with me. And they need to be stopped."

"Stopped."

Gaeta inclined his head. "Stopped. Removed. When the head of the government forgets that their duty is to serve and protect the people, they are no longer effective, or just. What the Fleet needs is someone who remembers that."

Tom sneezed, covering his mouth. "Excuse me," he said, and stood to wash his hands, pulling his thoughts together.

"Every revolution begins with one small act of courage," he said, "but I hope you know how serious this is. I hope you understand that this will have consequences- deadly consequences. For a lot of people.

"I've thought about the consequences. And I'm ready for them. We all are."

"How many is 'we'?"

"Enough," Gaeta said cagily. "But once it starts we'll get more support. People know something has to be done." He glared up at Tom in frustration. "The world is frakked. It's upside-down and somebody has to turn it right-side up. Are you that man?"

_Are you that man?_ Tom thought of _those men._ Adama. Tigh. Baltar. Roslin. People that Felix Gaeta had put on a pedestal, believing that they were the heroes as he did the work. Believing that they were good, believing that they were wrong. If this was going to work, he couldn't be that golden idol to Gaeta. It had to be equal; they had to be in this together.

"I'm one of them," he said. "I need... a partner."

Gaeta understood. He pulled himself to his feet, his chin raised defiantly, and extended his hand. "You've got one."


	9. Chapter 9

The alarm beeped loudly, waking the entire room. Felix sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing the privacy curtain aside. He glanced at the clock. 0500 hours. No wonder it felt like he'd only slept for two hours.

Of course, it wasn't terribly easy sleeping in Shark's empty rack, either.

Narcho swung down from the rack above him. "You need a hand?" he asked Felix, picking up a pair of towels and a sliver of soap.

"I think I'm all right," Felix said. He glanced around the room. There wasn't much movement yet, but Seelix was climbing out of Easy's rack and stretching. Racetrack and Skulls had camped out on the floor- Skulls pulled a pillow over his head. "Let's go." Felix said to Narcho, and picked up his crutch.

They were silent as they walked to the head, Narcho adjusting his steps to keep pace with Felix. There wasn't really much they could say. The showers weren't empty; a few others were up already. Felix looked at them with a kind of detachment. He wondered how many of these people would be dead by the end of the day.

Showering was still a difficult experience. Balance was hard, and despite the fact that no one stared, he felt self-conscious, disgusted by his own body. He finished as quickly as he could and then sat down on a bench to dress.

"I think Gage was going to get breakfast," Narcho said as he clambered out of the shower easily. "I think everyone had better eat, don't you?"

"Yeah. Big day ahead," Felix said.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Narcho sing-songed. They looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.

"What's so funny?" Hot Dog demanded from a nearby stall.

"Nothing," Felix wheezed, looking up at Narcho. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not about sex anyway," Narcho said.

"Oh." Hot Dog turned back to what he was doing with a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Felix turned his attention back to his own clothing.

He dressed carefully, making sure his seams were straight and his uniform was as immaculate as it could get. He shaved, another exercise in balance, and then made sure his hair was something resembling orderly. His pins and his shoe were shined, and his nails were trimmed and neat. Aside from the fraying of his uniform and the fact his hair was a little longer than it should be, he would have had no trouble passing an inspection. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Narcho was looking the same.

When they returned, their people were awake and moving. Felix stood in the doorway, surveying his crew. Racetrack was ready, alive with kinetic energy, walking around as she ate. Skulls and Gage were playing a hand of Triad, using protein bar bits as chips. Vireem was still in his bunk, eyes closed, but he was fully dressed and obviously not asleep. Seelix and two Marines were hunched over the table eating, laughing over some joke, letting off steam.

If Adama walked into this room right now, he'd never know what was really going on.

Felix sat down at the table and ate mechanically, reviewing all of his plans in his head. Everything had to be just right, everything had to be on. One mistake would not only be his death, but the death of everyone in here. The thought should chill him, but it didn't. It just made him more determined to do this right.

He finished his meal, and it was almost like a signal. When he pushed his bowl away, everyone turned to him, charged silence falling over the room.

"All right," he said, leaning forward. They came around the table like it was the war room, ready for his instructions. "Gage, Seelix, Vireem, Johnson… Cylons go into custody. Remember- no shooting unless you have to." He eyed Gage firmly. "Once that's accomplished, you report to the CIC."

"Yes, sir."

"Racetrack and Skulls, you know where to be. When you see my signal, be ready. We won't have much time, and I'm going to need what we've got just to get across the hangar deck."

"Yes, sir."

"Rominov, you've got the wire box. You remember exactly what you're doing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And Narcho, you do the crowd control down here, get people armed, and then get to your Viper to take care of anyone who may leave. Can I rely on you to shoot down _anyone_, no matter who it might be?"

Narcho met his eyes evenly. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Are there any questions?" They all shook their heads. "Good. Get your people moving as soon as you can, and as it starts, more will join us." He sighed. This was the place where Adama would launch into an inspiring speech, or at least a worthy quip that made them all remember what they were fighting for. But as he looked at their faces, he knew they knew it. He saw his own desperation and despair and resolve reflected back at him, and there was nothing he could say to that.

It was Seelix who broke the tense silence. "Mars," she began, her voice shaking. Next to Felix, Noel immediately bowed his head and clasped his hands, "we pray and beseech you that you be good and merciful to us, that with the help of the gods success may crown our work…."

One by one, each member of his force bowed their heads. Felix swallowed hard. He hadn't thought much about the Gods these days; had no idea if they existed or not. Didn't much care. But as he looked at the souls in this room and realized their blood was on his hands if they died, he found himself praying that they would succeed, that they would triumph, that the Gods would protect these people that served him. These were his men, his people, his soldiers, and this was his war.

And Gods help all of them if he lost.

***

The hatch swung open. Tom was already awake and dressed, and this time, the footsteps of the intruder were extremely distinctive. "Mr. Vice President," Felix said meaningfully.

Tom got to his feet and straightened his jacket.

Their pace had to be slower than Tom liked as they moved through the corridors. But they made it to the hangar deck with less effort than Tom ever expected, and his hopes began to soar. It wasn't that he'd ever lacked confidence in Gaeta's abilities; quite the opposite, really. But he knew enough to know that even the best laid plans only needed a single incident to completely unravel them.

There was a clatter, and Racetrack swore loudly. Something about a fuel leak. Tom noticed that everyone evacuated without question, and Gaeta limped across the hangar deck.

"Sitrep, Lieutenant," Gaeta said to Racetrack.

"Raptor's transponder's down for the count, and LSO's good to go, sir," Racetrack answered.

Gaeta nodded and beckoned Tom forward. But as Tom approached the Raptor, they were intercepted by a very angry looking mechanic whose name Tom couldn't quite remember.

"What the hell?" the mechanic demanded. "What are you doing? This ship's on hold for an emergency medical transport, not some bogus VIP shuttle." He glared at Tom, and Tom immediately knew this was not one of their guys.

"Oh, sorry, Chief, I assumed the LSO called it in." Gaeta was smooth and confident, and Tom almost believed him himself. "This bird's been cleared for launch, ASAP."

"No, I didn't get the order." Shit. Here was the first death, right here. Tom braced himself.

"New mission takes priority," Gaeta said. "The Admiral believes that Zarek may have an attempt on his life here on _Galactica_. Given the Vice President's controversial status, he's being transferred to _Colonial One._"

"All right. Soon as I confirm it with CIC."

"You have confirmation." Tom fumed silently. This was taking far too long, and Gaeta was dragging his feet. Every minute was costing them. "Laird," Gaeta insisted, at least distracting the deck chief while Tom picked up a heavy wrench, "the Admiral doesn't want this leaking out."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't take your word for it."

Tom swung, the impact sending dull vibrations up his arm. Laird dropped heavily to the ground, and Tom stared down at him for a second. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but… _this_ was going to be their problem. _This_ was his reservation about Felix Gaeta.

"Well, good riddance," Skulls said. "Frakker's been up Adama's ass since he transferred in from _Pegasus_."

"He won't be the last," Tom said, watching Gaeta's face. It was stricken, but he was already composing himself.

"Get on that ship," Gaeta ordered him.

"Not yet."

Gaeta grabbed him by the arms, a move oddly intimate within their new formality. He looked desperate, determined. "Damn it, I need you..."

"I know what you need." _I've known it… I've always known it. I knew it on New Caprica, when I had to force your hand to cross Baltar. Wake up, Felix, and learn this right now._ "I also know a little about revolution, Mr. Gaeta. Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation."

"I started this, and I'll see it through. Now get on that frakking ship."

Tom obeyed, and Racetrack and Skulls climbed in after him. "Let's go," Tom told them. Racetrack nodded and the Raptor doors began to shut.

"Racetrack," Tom said, once there was no chance of being heard, "you're in the command structure, right?"

"Right."

"Who's Gaeta got lined up for his XO? Hoshi?"

"No, sir, Hoshi's not in on this."

"You're kidding." He thought about it. "Probably for the best. I'm assuming," he said dryly, "he's not planning on shooting him."

"Shouldn't have to," Skulls said, doing something on his keyboard. "Unless Hoshi decides to play hero when Gaeta takes over the CIC."

"He won't do that," Racetrack dismissed it confidently. "Heroes didn't survive the _Pegasus_ CIC, from what I heard." She glanced back at Tom. "He's got Narcho. Lieutenant Allison."

The square-jawed, angry pilot that had visited Felix in sick bay and agreed passionately with everything Tom had to say afterwards, adding in a few rants of his own. Tom nodded approvingly. "Good. Listen… I know Felix, and I know what's coming, and I can promise you he's going to hesitate. If he does, we're lost. The people of the Fleet are lost. I need you and Narcho to make sure that doesn't happen for me."

"We can do that," Racetrack said, "but I think you're underestimating him."

They were docking at _Colonial One_ already. Tom smiled and shook his head. "No. I don't think I am." He gathered himself together. "Wait here. You've got another job."

He left the Raptor and headed to the conference room, where he could hear Lee Adama's voice. From here, it sounded high-pitched and whiny. Tom wondered idly if it had always sounded that way to him, or if it was mere disillusionment.

"Now, these Cylon FTL drives are essential if the Fleet is going to move on." Tom stepped into the room, and Lee turned around, his jaw falling open. "Mr. Vice President."

"Don't look so surprised, Lee." Tom smiled benevolently. "Even your father knows when he's holding a losing hand." He glanced covertly around the Quorum, trying to take in all of their reactions before they could school their faces into whatever emotion they wanted to convey. "The Admiral," he stressed to the waiting Quorum, "has not changed his mind. He still continues to insist on these FTL drives, no matter what the people of the Fleet want.

"But we need those drives," Lee insisted.

"Why?" Tom asked bluntly.

"They'll triple our jumping range-"

"So the Cylons say. But why should we trust them? Oh, I have no doubt that the technology is capable of doing what they say. But let's ask a few questions. Can the structure of the ships themselves withstand that kind of jump? Will the integration of the Cylon networking affect any of our own technologies, like our navigation systems or our…" he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing the scientific words Gaeta had given him from the recesses of his brain, "our communications software? These sorts of questions have answers and they may very well prove to be satisfactory. It would be easy to find answers; simply install the technology on one small ship first, and perform the tests while its people wait safely on another ship. And yet, the Admiral wants to install the technology without even considering these simple measures to insure our safety.

"And once the drives are installed, what then? The Cylon known as Tyrol has admitted he knows nothing about how this technology works. I certainly don't understand the first thing about Cylon technology, but I do know that it is possible for Cylons to download the memories of others. Can Cavil and his Cylons gain access to our drives and control them? Even if the answer is no , we know that this sort of communication between the same model is possible, and Cavil has an Eight with him. Could _she_ gain access to our drives, then? These are questions that need to be asked."

Tom took a deep breath, looking around. He saw people nodding, agreeing, and it buoyed him.

"But there are other questions that need answering. They tell us that the Cylons were created by man, and that they rebelled. That they fight, that they exterminate us out of revenge. That these slaves were backed into a corner, and that there was no other option available to them. That they tried to destroy our people because reason doesn't work, because logic doesn't work… because only violence works. Only violence allows them to accomplish their goal. We've all seen first hand evidence of that. And we've seen how that hasn't changed; we all lived through the hell that was New Caprica.

"The Cylons believed in their cause. Every last one of them. And now, when they need something, we're being told that these rebel Cylons have had a change of heart."

"They gave us the Resurrection Hub," Lee burst out. "You can't deny that."

"No, Mr. Adama, I can't. But I can ask _why_? Why did they give us such a prize? Why are they giving us this technology now? Can you answer that, Mr. Adama?" Lee gaped like a landed fish, and Tom rushed on. "And if the Cylons are so trustworthy, why did an Eight murder three humans?" That comment brought out a burst of questions. Tom held up his hands for silence. "A matter of days ago, a Raptor was lost in space, a Raptor carrying four humans and a Cylon. The Cylon murdered Specialist Kevin Brooks, Lieutenant James Finnegan, and Ensign Andrea Esrin, and would have murdered Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, had he not killed her first. Lieutenant Gaeta has been serving aboard the _Galactica_ as the Senior Officer of the Watch and navigator for the Fleet since his return; the Admiral obviously believes that he did not kill the humans. And yet, the Admiral does nothing. A Cylon kills three humans, and the Admiral does nothing. Nothing but allow these things to board our ships and tamper with our FTL drives!"

"That's ridiculous!" Lee shouted over the uprising babble. "There's no way my- the Admiral-"

"Oh no?" Tom said. "Ask Lieutenant Gaeta, who was there. Ask Lieutenant Edmondson, who found the stranded Raptor and saw the carnage inside." At those two names, he saw Lee back down, at least enough to listen. "This should have been investigated, Lee. Even you must admit that." The other delegates were nodding enthusiastically.

"Adama and Roslin are asking too much. No, they are _ordering_ too much. They form an alliance with a group of genocidal robots, and then when the Fleet exercises their rights- those explicitly protected by the Articles- to disapprove and resist this alliance, they trample over them. Why are we pretending this is a democracy? Why don't they just declare martial law, declare themselves dictators, and be done with it?"

That comment set off a flurry of voices and anger, just as he'd intended it to. He watched the Quorum arguing, agreeing, affirming their own views within each other's doubts, and he didn't risk the smile that threatened to spread over his face. They were ready, standing on the edge, and the only thing that was tethering them to Laura Roslin was Lee Adama.

He didn't like what needed to be done, but as he looked at Lee, frantically trying to soothe and to pacify, he knew that there was no other choice.

The meeting finally dispelled, and he decided to give Lee a few minutes to make the phone calls Tom knew he would make. Gaeta would brush him off, Tom had absolutely no doubts about that. He walked down to the Raptor, his shoes tapping out a sharp staccato.

Racetrack and Skulls looked up from a hand of Triad when he entered. "Everything okay?" Racetrack asked.

"It couldn't have gone better," he said, not able to help the smugness that crept into his voice. "Lee should be coming soon. Gaeta told you about that, right?"

"Not in so many words," Racetrack temporized.

He studied her face, and decided to play it safe. "All you have to do is get him over to the _Galactica_. Charlie Conner will meet you there and take over."

Skulls got it. He could see it in the solemn nod of the man's head. Racetrack didn't… or she didn't want to. It was odd, how you could see someone deliberately shutting something out of their mind. She studied her cards, rearranging them. Tom decided to change the subject before she could think any more on it. "I told the Quorum about Raptor 718," he said.

"You did?"

"I had to. Not only should they know what lies Adama and Roslin are telling, they need to have Gaeta's name fresh in their minds, especially as a sympathetic hero character. It will make the transition smoother and their acceptance will come more easily."

Racetrack nodded complete understanding at that. "Okay. So I should tell Lee everything I know?"

"I trust you to know what to tell him." He rubbed his chin. "Although I didn't tell him about Hoshi's involvement. I'm not convinced Hoshi would tell Lee the truth if questioned." He smiled then, easy and light. "You're doing a very courageous thing, fighting for your principles like this," he told them. "I'm glad we have people like the two of you, people we can trust and we can count on." The praise obviously sat well, and he nodded a goodbye and walked down to Lee's office with the feeling of a job well done.

***

Felix knew he'd arranged this perfectly, but every time someone spoke his breath still hitched… or at least, it felt like it.

_He abandoned us on New Caprica. He lied for years about Earth. He didn't even have a back-up plan._ The mantra ran through his head, over and over, lending him strength.

The worst was every time Adama looked his way. He didn't suspect a thing, and in some convoluted way, that made Felix feel even worse. They'd worked together for so long… couldn't the Admiral _see?_ Didn't he know what was going through his head? But he didn't. It was written all over his face, in his cursory orders, in the way he automatically took everything Felix said for truth.

_No investigation of the_ Demetrius.&lt;/i&gt; No search and rescue mission. No need to care about three dead humans. Dee.&lt;/i&gt;

He had to be more careful in lying to Louis. Even over the phone between their stations, Louis knew his voice well enough to pick up shades of doubt. But he kept the conversations short and looked busy, and Louis didn't seem to notice a thing.

Just as well.

Those thoughts could only be allowed to flit across his mind. He got an angry, worried call from Lee, which he took great joy in fending off. And there was an even angrier call from Starbuck, which made him think that maybe this idea of tossing people out airlocks had some merits after all.

_They killed them all, my family, my friends, the Academy, everyone I ever loved, everyone I ever even knew. And he turns a blind eye, ready to hand them the rest of us. After years of hard decisions, after years of putting humanity first, he gives us this._

A few times he almost jerked out of his seat too early. But he held himself steady, waiting… waiting for the moment… the signal.

And it came.

Private Jaffee jogged back into the CIC, young and worshipping and completely blind, in Felix's disgusted opinion. "Admiral," he said breathlessly, "I checked the array. The equipment's been jury-rigged..."

"Sergeant of the Guards, get your Marines in here! Nobody gets in or out!" Felix hauled himself to his feet as quickly as he could, anger giving him speed. Adama whirled on him.

"What the hell are you doing?! What is this?!"

The Marines charged in, and the gunshot echoed through the CIC. It was a haze of shouting, smoke, and blood, but the chaos only hardened him into the leader he knew he had to be.

"Hold your fire!" he shouted, brandishing his crutch like a weapon. "Nobody fires without my order! Admiral! Get your staff to stand down."

Tigh, so betrayed, so angry. For a moment something in him threatened to care, but then he remembered Tigh was a frakking toaster and he went cold. "You son of a bitch!" Tigh growled, but Felix only locked his eyes on the Admiral.

"Stand down, Colonel!" Adama ordered. "Everyone! Stand down!" He knelt down, and Felix finally saw that Jaffee had pushed the Admiral aside. Dead. "You killed this boy."

Felix spared a brief glance for the private on the floor. _ Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation._ "Admiral Adama," he said, ignoring the corpse, "I am removing you from command of this ship. I am taking you into custody on the charge of treason."

"You swore an oath when you put that uniform on. You pledged to defend this ship and her crew."

"You swore the same allegiance," Felix ground out, his mantra of wrongs still pounding a rhythm in his head. "What happened to your oath? For seven years, I have done my frakking job and for what? To take orders from a Cylon? To let machines network our ship? No, you... you are not the leader that you were when we started. You're just a sad, old man that has let his heart and his affection for a Cylon cloud his judgment!"

"I want you all to understand this!" Adama shouted, taking in the entire CIC. The obligatory speech now, the guilt trip. Felix had been prepared for this. "If you do this... there will be no forgiveness. No amnesty. This boy... died honoring his uniform. You... you'll die with nothing."

Nothing. He _felt_ nothing, damn it. Absolutely nothing. "Sergeant of the Guards, take the senior staff, put them in a holding cell, place Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh under arrest." He glanced over and saw Louis standing slowly, shocked and pale and angry and _oh Gods…. It's for the best_. He looked away, not only because he couldn't allow emotion but because the situation was far too unstable for sentiment. The Marines were hesitating. "Do it!" he ordered.

The Marines led Adama and Tigh away. _You'll die with nothing…_ Felix slammed his hand down on the war table.

"Right," he said. "Specialist Gage, take your station. Let's get this ship operational again."

***

The phone rang, shattering the stillness. Tom lunged for it, heart in his throat.

"Mr. Zarek," Gaeta's voice said, and he allowed himself to breathe, "I've taken command of _Galactica._. The admiral and his senior staff are in custody."

"Adama's still alive?"

"You sound disappointed."

_Well, yes,_ Tom wanted to say. _That was the point._ "It's a loose end," he told Gaeta sternly. "I'm sure you have your reasons. Still, congratulations are in order. With the future of the Fleet at stake, you've done a very courageous thing."

Gaeta didn't sound impressed. "We can fine-tune our rationalizations later. I'm still bringing communications back online. And the Fleet's in an uproar."

"Don't worry," Tom reassured him. There was the sound of disturbance in the background, but no panic. "They'll fall in line," Tom continued, "especially after I shower them..."

But Gaeta cut him off. "What the frak? Tom, are you hearing this? Turn on your wireless."

Confused, Tom leaned over and did so. And as he did, the very last voice he wanted to hear flooded the room. "Of all the decisions..." Laura Roslin was saying.

"Where's this coming from?" Gaeta was asking someone in his ear. He heard Gaeta calling for someone but ignored it, turning up his wireless.

"…Assuming the presidency, none was more frightening or more difficult than agreeing to this alliance with the Cylons. But we have come to a crossroads in our long and painful journey. Cylons and humans have been at war for generations. We know nothing else. And we have been locked in a struggle that has seen both sides suffer unspeakable loss. But with our supplies running low and our options limited, our former enemies may represent our last, perhaps our only hope. To those in the fleet and on _Galactica_ who would reject this alliance, I am asking you... No, I am begging you to reconsider and place your trust back in those who have brought you this far, and to reject those traitors who would use your fear of the Cylons to destroy Colonial civilization... " The wireless erupted into static.

For just one moment, Tom had felt himself leap up like a little lost puppy dog, his soul wagging its tail. He so desperately wanted to believe in something, in someone, and Laura Roslin had been such a leader at one point. But he closed his eyes and reminded himself of everything he'd suffered, everything the Fleet had suffered. Because without her prophecies and her lies, Laura Roslin was no leader at all.

Surely the people would see that. Surely the Quorum could see that.

He pushed aside doubt. This was the course they were decided on, because this was right. No matter what she said over the wireless, it was all pretty words and phrases, designed to cover up the fact that Laura had no heart for her duties and no desire to relinquish them.

"Sir?" the voice over the phone said. "Lieuten… Comman.. Mr. Gaeta for you."

"Commander Gaeta," Tom informed the nameless voice. Gaeta took the phone again. "The broadcast is taken care of?"

"It is. We've traced the signal down to Baltar's storage bay, which means she's probably gone from there by now."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm sending Marines down to secure the area," Gaeta said coldly, in a voice that for some absurd reason reminded Tom of Admiral Cain. "We'll capture her. Laura Roslin is your loose end."

"She won't be for long." Tom glanced down at his desk, where petitions and pleas waited for his attention. "And Commander. If circumstances dictate that you can't take her alive…"

It hung on the phone, heavy between them. But Gaeta just said, "Yes, sir," and privately, Tom wondered if maybe he should kill Adama and leave Roslin to Felix. Somehow, he thought it might be less complicated that way.

***

Complicated. Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying not to even think the word. Not even hours had passed since he'd taken control, and there'd been reports of thirty-eight dead. He knew the number would only rise. His leg was hurting abominably, and Baltar's phone call had thrown him off his game for a moment. He'd almost been grateful for that damn rogue Raptor, even if it meant that people who were meant to die had escaped.

It wasn't the command that was hard. He'd trained for this, worked for _years_ for this. Commanding a battlestar was what he'd wanted all his life, although he'd be the first to say this wasn't how he wanted to get it. He might not like the circumstances, but he was ready for them.

Thirty-eight. The number scratched itself into his head and his soul, and he knew he'd be changing it until he died. Even once they found that planet… he looked at the electronic image of the Fleet, his fingers ghosting over the lighted images. He was in command now, and that meant these lives _all_ were on his shoulders.

He heard boot steps, the CIC doors opening, and stood up. The Marines marched Adama to him, and for one second he had to push away the memory of when he'd wrecked the car at fifteen, and the absolute fury that had been his father. But Adama's glare was nothing like his father's. There was no love there, only anger and hate and disappointment. He smiled bitterly.

"Welcome back. I had a feeling you wouldn't be on that Raptor."

"I care too much for this ship to let it be overrun by rats."

_Rat._ "Right," Felix said sourly, and he couldn't help adding, "If only you cared as much about the people on it."

"You have no frakking idea."

Since slapping the bastard with his crutch wouldn't do any good, Felix just stared him down. "Well, then show me. You want to save some lives? Get on the radio and call Roslin. Tell her to come back and surrender."

"No."

"I'll ask you one more time, Admiral."

"Admiral," Adama scoffed. He took off his rank pins and tossed them on the table, and Felix almost cringed. "You're the Admiral now," Adama said scornfully. "So you call up Roslin. Make her laugh."

The Dradis beeped, and Felix looked up to see what was happening. The baseship was moving.

"All hands to battle stations. Set condition one. Gun battery, stand by. Target bearing..."

"Sir," Gage said, "the baseship. They're moving into the fleet."

Felix swore, and Adama humphed with appreciation.

"They're hiding in the fleet."

As a tactical move, it was brilliant, Felix had to admit that. But the fact of the matter was that the supposed President of the Colonies was now using the people she swore to protect to protect the Cylons and herself. But Felix wasn't going to play her game. Laura Roslin didn't understand what this was truly about. He looked around. "Battle stations, stand down. Marine launch, blue squadron have them quarantine the base ship. Gage, spin up our FTL. Alert the ship captains to do the same. Kelly, prepare for Mr. Zarek's arrival."

Automatically, he glanced at Adama. Adama's face was unchanged, still bitter and hating. "Now you're going to shoot me, Mr. Gaeta," he prompted.

Felix nodded. The marines took him away, and it took all the strength that Felix had in him not to turn around and watch.

***

"Tom."

Tom looked up to see Jacob Cantrell in his doorway, with several other Quorum members ranged behind him. "Yes?"

"What the frak is going on? Have you heard this mess over on _Galactica_?"

"Of course," Tom said smoothly. "Adama is being… replaced."

"Replaced." The delegates exchanged glances. "You're talking mutiny."

"No," Tom said, standing up at his desk. "I'm talking revolution. Funny, how they're really the same thing, isn't it? What it really depends on is the outcome. If those who are fighting for change win, it's revolution. Those in power win, it's mutiny."

"It's all a play on words," Cantrell accused.

"It is," Tom agreed. "The reality of the situation is that Adama was determined to ignore the will of the people. To stomp on democratic decisions, to impose a martial state when he didn't get his way. Like a spoiled child. Like a _terrorist._ Adama showed us he's willing to use violence against our own citizens in order to silence any opposition when he forcefully boarded the _Hitei Khan._ This, my friends, is a revolution."

Reza Chronides crossed her arms. "And who is replacing him?" she demanded.

"Felix Gaeta," Tom said, straightening up. To his surprise, he saw confusion on some of the faces, and something that almost looked like anger on a few of the others. Before anyone could question, he dove in. "Gaeta has been third in command on the _Galactica_ since the beginning of this wretched journey, except for our time on New Caprica. He worked for the Resistance, risking his life to feed them information. He has calculated jumps, navigated our course, and sacrificed more for humanity than any living person I know."

Cantrell put a hand on Tom's arm. "Tom," he said, and he knew it was his friend Jacob talking, not the Sagittaron representative, "we all know that's true. And I know you're very close with him, and know his strengths well. But he's also a man who's had his leg amputated and then nearly been killed again in the space of two weeks, and from what I understand lost his best friend, as well. There is no way that this guy is drinking from a full bottle of ambrosia."

Tom shook Cantrell's hand off. "He took the _Galactica_ from Admiral Adama," he said. "Frankly, that speaks volumes to me of his ability. You need further proof? We're docking at _Galactica_ in five minutes. Give us a little bit of time to get Gaeta over here, and you can meet him. You'll understand what this man is capable of, and you'll see the difference between him and Adama."

"What about Laura Roslin?" Orimosis demanded. "We heard her broadcast."

Something in his voice was dangerous… loyal. Tom narrowed his eyes. "Laura Roslin," he said slowly, leaning heavily on his desk, "is cozied up in the Cylon base star. Laura Roslin is using civilian ships to protect her Cylons. And Laura Roslin has not been seen or done one damn thing to help anyone in this Fleet since Earth! What about Laura Roslin?"

He saw it then, anger and frustration, betrayal and fleeting disappointment. He didn't admit it, but he saw it, and he drew himself up.

"If you'll excuse me," he said. "I have a meeting with Commander Gaeta. There's a lot of work to be done."

They parted and let him pass. And he wondered if that was the most dangerous sign of all.

  
***

They met in the Admiral's study. Tom couldn't help but notice that Felix looked distinctly uncomfortable here, and it wasn't just the pain in his leg, although that was clearly growing worse.

"I have a net over the base ship, you know," Gaeta said in way of greeting. "You didn't have to bring the whole Quorum with you."

"You're insisting on the trial," Tom said.

Gaeta was even. "I'm insisting."

"Then I want them where I can keep an eye on them. Look, I know you want to do the right thing."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gaeta said sarcastically. "I was under the impression that you did too."

Tom wanted to close his eyes wearily. Felix in full-on bitch mode was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, he stepped closer. "I do. But we need to move on."

"We can't move on until people have answered for what they've done," Gaeta almost hissed, his eyes blazing. "Which begins with Adama. One world at a time, Tom."

Tom stepped back, shaking his head. "They're bringing the lawyer in now," he said, glancing at his watch.

"Good."

The mask of righteousness faded a bit, and as it ebbed Tom felt tired. This wasn't what they should be doing. This was costing them… did Gaeta really think that their position was that secure that they could bother with a phony trial? While ruling by fear wasn't something Tom condoned, it got the job done until true trust could be reestablished. They needed to show everyone they meant business.

If this was Lee standing here, Tom would have said all of that. He would have argued, he would have gone ahead, and he would have just executed Adama himself, even if he had to pull the trigger.

Tom steeled himself, and realized _he_ needed to show everyone they meant business. Including Felix Gaeta.

He watched the mockery of a trial unfold, Gaeta's frustration with Adama becoming palpable as they butted heads, as Adama refused to listen. He shifted impatiently, because every moment of this was lost time, their security slipping away.

Tom was long out of the habit of praying, but some god must have been watching over him when Romo Lampkin asked for some time alone with Adama. He took advantage and almost dragged Gaeta out of the room.

"Nothing you say is going to get through to him. Can't you just admit that?" he hissed, fingers tight around Gaeta's arm. Gaeta glared at him, and Tom sighed. "Fine. Look, I'm going to use this time to go address the Quorum." He glanced at his watch. "Start down in ten minutes. They need to see you in command, to hear you address them. They need to understand."

Gaeta nodded, and Tom patted his shoulder. "We're almost there," he said. "Once you get past this, it will be easier." He left before Gaeta could respond.

The Quorum was waiting, agitated and angry. When Tom entered, Cantrell stood up immediately. "Sit down, Tom."

Tom looked at the faces staring at him. And just looking at them, he already knew what they were going to say. "I think I'll stand, Jacob."

Cantrell nodded. "You fought for this Quorum. You fought for this government. You wanted to ensure democracy within the Fleet. What you have done over the past four years…" he cocked a half-grin, "well, let's just say you and I have always known your contributions have been underestimated.

"But now, now that things aren't going your way, now that the democracy you were so desperate to implement is not responding to _your_ vision, you're throwing it away. What _Lieutenant_ Gaeta is doing is mutiny. There is no other word for it. William Adama is still the Admiral of this Fleet. And Laura Roslin is still alive, still active. Laura Roslin is still the President. Whatever madness this is, Tom, it has to stop. _Now._" Cantrell softened. "Please, Tom. I'm asking you as a friend. Stop this."

Tom bowed his head for a long moment.

"_The world's upside down. And someone has to turn it right side up again._ Felix Gaeta said that to me. He believes he's that someone. I believe he's that someone. But he has very big shoes to fill. I brought you here because I wanted him to meet people who refuse to give up, people who have the courage to voice their dissent." He looked at the Quorum disgustedly. "But at the end of the day, you still stand by your President."

Cantrell's face set into hard lines, and Tom knew that he was thinking any friendship between them was now over. "I think you should leave now. Mr. Vice President," he said, choosing his side. The Quorum murmured their assent.

For a trembling moment, Tom felt like he _was_ Felix, standing before a task he didn't want to do. He understood the hesitation, the fear, the desperate desire to talk and to _convince_ and to just lock everyone up and get on with it.

But then he'd always understood that. He'd always wished it could be that way. And he'd always known it couldn't. The world didn't work like that, and Tom Zarek knew it.

He nodded at them, and walked out of the door. When he came to the Marine outside, his voice was hard and determined.

"Shoot them."

***

Felix could hear Romo and Adama talking, although he couldn't hear the words. He looked helplessly around the Admiral's study. He'd been in here plenty of times before, but oddly, he couldn't manage to sit. He told himself it was because he was due to head down to _Colonial One_ in a matter of minutes; if he sat right now, he wouldn't want to get back up.  
_Rat._ He closed his eyes. Anger. Hate. Disgust. He could still hear the voices, and he realized this was doing nothing to further what he needed to do. He turned his back on the room and began the journey to the hangar bay.

The halls of the _Galactica_ looked different to him. They seemed red, tinged with drying blood. Down the corridor, he could hear the echoes of gunshots. _I hope you know this will have consequences. Deadly consequences._ He shook his head and continued, beginning to rehearse what he was going to say to the Quorum in his head.

_Um, hi_ was not an acceptable beginning. Nor was _Kneel before your new lord and master, peons._ Admiral Adama would say _Men and women of the Quorum_, yes? Maybe. Or he'd just ignore salutations all together and- frak, why was he even thinking of what Adama would do? He pushed it away angrily.

_Thank you, Mr. President._ There it was, right there. _I know that this is an uncertain time for all of you. I know that what has happened upsets the status quo that we have all grown comfortable with, and I regret that certain actions had to be taken._ He stopped, looking distastefully at the stairs. The _Galactica_ was not designed for a crippled man. He looked around, saw no one of consequence, and tossed his crutches over the edge, where they clattered to the floor. Then he sat down on the stairs and began to scoot down, like a child still uncertain of his steps.

_I regret that certain actions had to be taken, but if our Fleet- if humanity- wants to survive, these things had to be done. We can not tolerate an alliance with the very people who destroyed everything we hold dear. But you know that, I know you do, because you voted not to allow Cylons on civilian ships. You have guarded democracy. You have confirmed Tom Zarek as your President. Our people will survive because of what you have done, because you have listened to them, because you have acted in their best interests._

"Commander Gaeta."

Felix looked up, startled, to see a Marine extending his crutch and a hand. For a moment he was utterly humiliated, sitting on the bottom step, looking up at this man. But the man's eyes showed nothing but respect and sadness. "Thank you," he said, taking the proffered crutch and gripping his hand. The Marine pulled him to standing.

"Zarek is ready for you."

"I was heading there now. Thank you."

The Marine saluted, and fell into step behind him. Felix struggled towards _Colonial One._ _The people's best interests. That is what we are defending, that is what we fight for. That is what we have always fought for – the people. When I put on my uniform, I swore a solemn oath, that I would defend the people of the Colonies, the Articles, and the freedoms we enjoy. That is what I have done today, even though it has cost me much._

And when he opened the door of _Colonial One_ and entered the room where the Quorum met, Felix saw just how much this had cost. He stared at the bodies, biting back on the bile that choked him.

"What is this?" he demanded when he could speak again.

Tom stepped out of the corner, like a ghost. His face was pale and his mouth was tight. "This, Mr. Gaeta, is revolution."

"I never agreed to this!"

"Yes, you did," Zarek said calmly.

Felix looked at the corpses of people who had likely never raised guns, and then grabbed Zarek by the collar. "No, this is murder!"

"This is a coup," Zarek was firm. "That you began. To take command and destroy our enemies, before they destroy us." He put a hand on Felix's shoulder. The hand was firm but gentle, completely at odds with the grim determination on his face.

_Enemies._ Since when were the Quorum enemies? Tom had assured him, had been so sure… and yet, here they were, dead because… well, he didn't even know why. He looked back.

"What have you done?"

"This is what happens."

"No... no, it's a lie. This is all based on lies. Don't you get it? We... we had the truth on our side, now... now..."

"The truth is told by whoever is left standing. Adama has to go. There's no turning back now."

The hand was still on his shoulder, still gentle, still firm. Felix looked down at it, remembering a night on New Caprica of cold and smoke when Tom had ruffled his hair and they'd laughed together. _That_ was the Tom Zarek he knew, that he respected. The man standing in front of him with an emotionless face and bloodstained hands was the Tom Zarek that Dee had warned him about, that Louis hated. The one that Felix had closed his eyes to, had refused to see.

Three times he'd put his faith in men to lead. He'd thought Gaius Baltar could build them a new home, and he'd failed. He'd thought William Adama could find them one, and he'd failed. And he'd thought Tom Zarek could change the world, that he could make everything right, put it back the way it was meant to be.

He stepped away, his leg throbbing in agony. He reached down, clawing at the stump, trying to find some relief, and nothing came.

_You gave me the names, Felix!_

Out of nowhere, the whisper shot through him, freezing him solid, and he remembered. He could smell the blood and the metallic scent of fear, hear her voice in her ears, see her face shift from the one he knew to the one of nightmares. There was blood on his hands. There always had been.

He looked over his shoulder at the dead Quorum again. "This," he said slowly. "These are the consequences."

"Yes. Don't let their deaths be in vain, Felix. If we stop now, they will be. But if we finish what we started, those that die today will save the entire Fleet."

Felix nodded, feeling a part of his soul die as he spoke. "All right," he said. "Let's go finish with Adama."

***

"You deserted us on New Caprica. You let us twist in the wind!"

Tom desperately wanted to just bury his head in his hands. New Caprica? Felix was really bringing that up? For crying out loud, even _Tom_ didn't hold Adama responsible for that one. And he'd never thought that Felix had, either. Everything with the Quorum, and they were right back here.

"I saved your frakking ass."

"Why can't you just admit that you've been derelict in your duties as an officer?" The argument continued, but the phone rang. Tom gratefully moved to it to take the call.

"This is Kelly. Is Commander Gaeta there?"

Tom looked over to the table. "He's busy," he snapped curtly. "This is Zarek."

"Sir, Tigh and the skinjobs escaped. We did everything we could, but…"

"Casualties?"

"Human only. We're not sure yet-"

"That's fine. Thank you." The idea sprang into his head immediately, and he knew how this could work to his advantage.

He hung up and turned back to the table. "We just got word that Tigh and the skinjobs escaped."

"Don't worry, sir," a Marine said, "We're on it." He gestured to another guard and left immediately.

Tom looked directly at Felix. "Saul Tigh was killed trying to escape."

And he saw it. Adama broke right then and there. He withdrew into himself. He would give no more arguments, no more resistance. Not right now. And this trial could come to an end.

"I'm sorry," Felix said, and it was an expression of sympathy. Tom closed his eyes for a moment. "But you did give aid and comfort to the enemy. Saul Tigh was a Cylon. And even when you discovered that he was, you let him remain the XO, didn't you?"

"I'm not answering any more questions for you, Mr. Gaeta." Adama said.

_Thank Gods._ Tom jumped in. "The prisoner is guilty as charged," he said. But he didn't look at Adama; he looked at Felix. _I gave you what I could_, he told him silently. _But now it's time. We can't indulge this any more, or we'll lose everything._ And he saw the acknowledgement in Felix's eyes.

"This isn't a trial," Lampkin opined. "This is an asylum."

Tom shoved him against the wall. He wanted to yell, to rage, to make this man see what this was costing, what they were fighting for… all those things Felix wanted to say to Adama. All those things he wanted to say to Felix. But before he could, Laura Roslin's voice cackled over the wireless.

"This is President Laura Roslin speaking from the Cylon Baseship. Felix Gaeta has seized _Galactica_ by force. The Cylons were defending themselves. They will not harm you. I repeat, the Cylons will not harm you. Shut down your FTL drives..."

"Frak!"

Tom shoved Lampkin away from him, and headed for the CIC. The signal needed to be stopped immediately, and there was no way Felix was going to get there quickly enough. He burst into the CIC, which was a flurry of inefficient activity.

"Why, by the frak, is she still broadcasting?" he demanded of the man sitting at Gaeta's station. "Where's Hoshi? Get that little frak back into CIC!"

"Shut down your FTL drives..." Laura was hypnotically insisting.

"Frak."

A hand was on his arm, and he turned to see Felix, pale but composed. His face was purposeful, even as he leaned heavily on his cane. "I'll take it from here, Tom," he said, and as he did, Tom suddenly realized that they'd slipped back into first names. "You go clean up your mess on _Colonial One._"

Tom backed off, retreating to the door. But he wasn't ready to go down to _Colonial One_ just yet. Not until he was sure Felix had done what he needed to do. Because right now, Tom wasn't sure he'd do it at all.

***

"Ten ships shut down their FTL drives after Roslin's transmission."

"Ten ships out of thirty five," Noel said. "Frakking Roslin."

"No, she did us a favor," Felix said, silently impressed that it was that few. "Now we're clear who's with us and who's trouble." He turned to his old station. "Gage, give the jump coordinates only to those ships that kept their FTLs online. Order them to jump immediately."

"Yes, sir."

His hands were illuminated by the light of the table, making them look darker than usual. Felix stared at them for a split second, and then drew a deep breath and turned to Noel.

"I need you to assemble an execution detail," he told him. "Only men you can trust. Secure the main hangar deck launch tube. Take Adama down there and wait for me." He measured him with his eyes. "Can I count on you, Noel?"

It was a terrible thing to ask, and he knew it. Noel didn't like the orders, that much was obvious. But then, neither did Felix. And they'd both known that this was coming. After a moment, Noel nodded. "All down the line, sir."

Felix watched him walk away, and then caught sight of Tom standing in the CIC.

"Spying on me, Tom?" he asked as he approached.

"Let's just get through this and move on, all right, Felix?" Tom sounded tired, but it was more of an order than anything else.

The gulf stretched between them for a long moment, forged and widened by the blood on their hands. Once this was over, Felix told himself, once this was over then they could mend this, they could get back to what they had to do.

"I'm going to the Admiral's study," he informed Tom. He glanced at Racetrack, who was still standing at the table. "Captain Edmondson," he said deliberately, and saw her eyes widen, "you have the deck."

"Yes, sir."

He limped up the stairs, detachedly wondering if there was an easy way he could put some sort of ramp in place to make it easier to get down to the center of the CIC. If he was going to continue to command… the rest of the journey loomed in front of him, and once more that _he_ was responsible for the safety of this Fleet hit him hard. He was their protector now, and he would not forget that. Not now, not ever.

And yet, eleven corpses lay in _Colonial One_. And Noel was waiting for him down in the launch tube. And so far there were thirty eight deaths reported to him on the _Galactica._

He opened the door to the Admiral's study, and stared around it. Adama wasn't dead, but this was still _his_ room. And not just the associations. The art, the pictures, the personal items…. Adama was all around him, and Felix wasn't sure that would ever go away.

He pulled out the Admiral's pins, holding them in a shaking hand. He could see them so clearly on Adama's collar. They would look ludicrous on him. He dropped them heavily onto the desk.

His leg was hurting so badly that shafts of pain were shooting up his side and into his head, and he could barely stand. The pips were on the desk, where they belonged. And yet, this is what made a sacrifice a sacrifice. When you gave up something you truly loved, when you tossed it into the fire and watch it burn in the desperate hope that it would make the world a better place… that was what he had to do. It wouldn't be a sacrifice if it was easy.

Tom had made this same sacrifice on the altar of freedom and democracy and humanity. And now Felix couldn't avoid it any longer.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Lieutenant Allison. Carry out the execution."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up, knowing he should be down there. The blood should be on his hands, not Noel's. But when he took a step forward, the pain in his leg brought tears to his eyes. He had to stand still for a long moment, and in his head he heard the words, _ready, aim, fire._ He looked at the chair, and realized that Adama was probably dead already.

Adama was dead.

He sat down, slowly, and removed the prosthetic, and the pain eased. The sight of the ravaged stump sickened him, but not nearly as much as the ravages of his own soul.

But what was done was done, and this was not the time for regrets. He _had_ to move forward now, because there was no other option. Adama was dead, and the Fleet needed someone to protect them. He glanced at the prosthetic, decided he couldn't bear putting it back on, and picked up his crutches. It was a long walk to the CIC, and he needed to get started.

It was cold. Freezing cold as he hobbled through the halls, and he couldn't stop shivering. The sound of the crutches and his one remaining foot barely registered in his ears. The Marine who had helped him onto _Colonial One_ was here and moved aside, saluting. Felix barely noticed him. He moved into the CIC. Tom was standing in his spot, barking at Gage.

"Put me on speaker," Tom was ordering. "This is Tom Zarek. President of the Twelve Colonies. It's over, Laura. Saul Tigh was killed attempting to escape. Bill Adama was tried and found guilty of his crimes. Firing squad executed him this morning. It's done, Laura. You need to think about the people of this fleet now and surrender."

Roslin's voice came over the wireless, a rage of fury and hate. "No. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? I will use every cannon, every bomb, every bullet, every weapon I have down to my own eye teeth to end you. I swear it! I'm coming for all of you!"

It should have terrified him. It took Tom aback, Felix could see that. But all Felix felt was tired. Bone tired. He made his way down to the center of the CIC.

"So now we have a military leader and a President all in one," he told Tom wryly

Tom's face was hard, but his eye flitted down to the empty place where Felix's prosthetic should have been. "And how would you have answered her if you would have been here?"

"Baseship's arming itself, sir," Gage informed him before Felix could answer.

"Are we jump ready?" Felix asked.

"Affirmative."

"Set the rendezvous jump coordinates. Set your board to green. There's been enough killing. I'm leaving them behind. Unless you object."

Tom looked furious, but he held his words in. So there were small miracles after all. Roslin was still screaming over the wireless, and they were counting down the jump. The cold was invading his bones, but Felix steadfastly ignored it, listening to Gage reeling off the numbers. In seconds, they would be away and then…. Then the worst would be over, even as the work began. "Ten… nine… eight…" It would be over. Felix closed his hands into fists, counting silently with Gage.

"Five… four... three… FTL just went offline," Gage said. The unexpected words jerked Felix out of his pain-filled haze. The FTL was offline. The _Galactica_ had failed him.

"Get a crew!" Tom ordered. "Get someone down to the engine room, right now. Come on, move it! Gaeta... Gaeta, launch your birds. Gaeta, wake up. What the frak are you doing? Launch your birds! Gaeta, Gaeta, we have to defend, do you understand that? Do you understand? Gaeta, we need to defend!

_Wake up. Wake up._ From far away, he heard a voice saying that, gentle and sure. _Wake up._ It was Dee, it was his mother, it was the Eight, it was Gaius, it was Louis…. _Wake up._

"One day soon, there's gonna be a reckoning," he whispered.

No, not one day soon. Today.

He couldn't jump. He couldn't get his people to safety. He couldn't help, he couldn't break free, he couldn't do anything that would build them cities or keep them sheltered or free them or keep them safe. He couldn't protect them by fighting. If he fired on the basestar, he'd be destroying a barrier of his own people in the process, and that was exactly what he couldn't do.

Now there was only one option, only one way this could end.

"Weapons hold!"

For the first time since he'd taken command, he recognized his own voice. In those two words he'd sealed his own death, and Tom's as well. He could see that Tom knew it as well, and when he heard the boot steps, he knew that it would be sooner rather than later. The door to the CIC exploded open, and a voice that should have come from beyond the grave shouted, "Put your weapons down. Drop your weapons!"

Adama was alive. And although it meant he would die, although it meant that he had failed, Felix couldn't deny that he was relieved. Guns trained on both himself and Tom, and neither of them fought it. It was over. They led Tom away.

Adama grabbed the communicator. "Connect me with the President. Madam President, this is the Admiral. Stand down. I repeat, _Galactica_'s secured. Stand down."

He turned to face Felix. Felix stared him down, exhausted and sick. There were bitterness, thunderous anger, and brutal disappointment there, but there was resolution as well. It was that resolution that made Felix go quietly, without any resistance.

_Wake up_ they'd said, and Felix realized he finally had.

The Marines led him to a holding cell. Slowly, because without his prosthetic walking took forever. He was trembling and sweaty when they arrived.

  
He'd been expecting Tom. But he hadn't thought that Louis would be there as well, being freed of where Felix had locked him away, safe from the violence and making a decision he could regret. He froze, and one of the Marines nudged him with a gun.

"This," Louis said in a choked voice, as a greeting. "This was your plan. This was what you were going to do."

"Yes." Felix found himself looking longingly at the bed in the cell. He desperately needed to sit. "I know you don't understand-"

"No," Louis said bitterly. "I don't." And there was nothing Felix could say to that. He tried to move past Louis and into the cell.

"Where's your prosthetic?"

Felix turned. Louis was still standing there, shaken and angry and so, so disappointed and hurt, and yet, there was still something in his face, something strong and loving and good. "It's in Adama's study," Felix told him quietly. "I just… I just couldn't do it any more. It hurt too much."

Louis nodded. "They're going to kill you, aren't they?"

Felix shrugged. "I assume so." What he meant was _I hope so._ Louis saw it too. He stepped closer, but didn't reach out.

"You said goodbye earlier," Louis realized. "That was what you were really telling me. Not that it was over between us, but… but a final goodbye." Felix nodded. Behind Louis, the hatch opened to admit Adama and Tigh.

Louis glared at the guards, at Tom who was watching silently, at Adama and Tigh, and then entered the cell. He pulled Felix against him roughly, holding him tight, cheek against cheek. "I didn't get to say my goodbye," he whispered. Felix held on for just a brief moment, not believing his luck and wishing he could stay here.

"Don't come to the execution," he begged, Louis's arms still tight around him. "Please don't watch. Just remember… remember us."

Louis nodded, and then kissed him. Felix tasted salt, and he knew the tears were not his own. Like Louis said, he'd already said goodbye.

Louis pulled away, and took in Felix's face one last time. Then he turned and stiffly saluted the Admiral and the Colonel. "What are your orders, sir?"

Adama measured him. "Get to CIC," he said roughly. "Communications still have some hiccups."

"Yes, sir."

"And Lieutenant Hoshi?"

"Yes, sir?"

"We're going to be having a very long talk later."

Louis flushed, biting back anger. "Yes, sir." He turned and left.

Adama looked at Tigh. "Laura's waiting in my study. Take Zarek there. I'll be there soon."

"Yes, sir. Come on." Tigh grabbed Tom by the arm roughly. Felix met his eyes as he went, and Tom gave him a small half-smile.

And then it was just him and the Admiral.

The anger radiating off the man was palpable, but Felix found miserably that he just didn't care. He loved Adama, he couldn't kill the man… but his opinion meant nothing to him anymore. Some things were broken and couldn't be fixed.

Exhausted, he finally sat down on the bed.

"Do you have anything you'd like to say?" Adama demanded.

Felix looked up at him and shrugged. "Loui- Lieutenant Hoshi- he had absolutely no idea. He wasn't in on this at all. You can still trust him."

"I'll judge that for myself. And that's not what I meant."

Felix shrugged. "No. I said it all already. If you didn't listen then, you won't listen now."

"Tigh told me that you didn't beg in the airlock, back after New Caprica. You're not going to beg now." It was hard to tell if it was an order or a question, but it didn't matter.

"No," Felix agreed. "I'm not."

Adama wiped his face. "There won't be a trial," he said, and for the first time Felix thought he saw a flicker of pain. "If you'd like one, I can be the lawyer and Roslin can be the judge and jury."

Felix looked away. "No."

"What gods do you worship?"

That question was completely unexpected. "Excuse me?" Felix asked, furrowing his brow.

"What gods do you worship?" Adama repeated. "What priest do you want to see?"

For a moment, thought he might laugh. But then the thought burst through him, and as soon as it did he knew it _had_ to be done. "Which priest? Gaius Baltar."

"No."

"Why not? He says he's a priest. There are people on this ship who _revere_ him."

"And you're not one of them."

Felix snorted. "And yet, the funny thing is, everyone knows I once was," he said honestly. "But you didn't know that, did you?" he said, surprised. "You really didn't see it."

"I saw it." And maybe he did, but there was a small twitch of his hands that indicated uncertainty. "But you've never ascribed to his religion."

Felix smiled bitterly. "Call it a death bed conversion, then. But I want to see Gaius Baltar."

"All right. Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

Adama looked at him evenly. "I need the space in the holding cell for your friends," he said. "The ones I'm not sure I'm going to execute."

Felix struggled off the bed, grabbed his crutches, and followed the Admiral out of the cell. They walked in silence, and Felix noticed that it took Adama a lot longer than it should have to remember to adjust his pace. But the Admiral did slow.

He opened the door to a vacant officer's quarters. Felix looked around, unsure of who lived here. Funny, because he thought he knew _Galactica_ backwards and forwards. Adama stepped aside and let Felix in.

"I'm posting Marines outside the door," he said. "It will take a couple hours to sort things out and to put the orders through. You have until then."

Felix nodded. He automatically opened his mouth to thank Adama, and then closed it again. Why should he thank the Admiral for a few hours before his execution?

Adama waited until Felix was inside and settled at a table, and then turned and headed for the door. On the threshold, he stopped, turned around, and fixed his steely gaze on Felix.

"You were wrong," he said. "That I don't care about my crew. I care more than you could ever know."

Felix sighed. "That wasn't what I said, and I'm not wrong. But there's no point in arguing it. It all ends the same way regardless."

"You're right about that," Adama said, and then left the room. The door clanged shut.

He was surprised when it opened fifteen minutes later to admit Colonel Tigh, who was carrying a tray with spiked coffee and cigarettes. The Colonel didn't say anything, and Felix just sat quietly, arms crossed, watching warily. There was nothing left to say there, either.

But when the door opened five minutes later and Gaius Baltar came in, he leaned forward with a smile, because this was the one loose end left to tie up. And when he saw the look on Gaius's face, his smile widened. This… this look from Gaius was what he'd wanted for Gods only knew how long, and for once… for once Felix Gaeta was finally going to get what he wanted.

***

Tom half-expected that Laura would come in to gloat, but instead, it was Adama. He entered bearing two documents, the ink barely dried, Lee Adama in tow. Tom put his feet up on Adama's sofa. Hey, if the man was going to kill him anyway, he might as well.

"What, no President?" Tom asked. "I would have thought Laura would be salivating at the thought of pushing the airlock button."

"The President is not a particularly good shot," Adama said sourly, putting the documents in front of Tom. Tom idly pulled them forward, seeing that they were execution orders for himself and Felix. Firing squad. He also noted that the date, time, and place listed were the same, and that made him breathe a little easier.

"Well, that all appears to be in order," Tom said. He would not show fear or regret to this asshole in front of him. "You do realize, only ten ships were willing to follow her. Ten out of thirty five. The rest were coming with us. You've got your work cut out for you."

"Shut up."

Tom shrugged, and then glanced at the clock. "So I've got an hour or so to kill, I see?"

"Funny," Adama said. "Do you want a priest?"

Tom shook his head. "Not at all."

Adama nodded, and stood up to leave. "There are guards posted outside, but I assume you knew that." He glared at Tom. "And I hope you know that I am holding you responsible for the fact that I have to execute my Senior Officer of the Watch."

Tom sat back up, putting his feet on the floor. "You think that I recruited him," he said slowly. Adama nodded, just a little, and Tom let out a little chuckle. "No. No, Admiral, Felix Gaeta came to me.

"You think they're all your kids. Your family. That they all look to you as a father, as a surrogate parent. But they aren't, and they don't. Felix Gaeta wasn't your son… he was mine. And I couldn't be prouder of him, and of the sacrifices he made for what he believed in, if he was my own child by flesh and blood."

Adama stared at him, and then made a disgusted noise and turned away and left the room. But Lee lingered. "Do you want me to stay?"

"If you want," Tom said, shrugging. "It's your decision."

Lee settled across from him. "My father would have executed Gaeta no matter what you said," he told Tom. "He was just hoping to get under your skin."

"I know," Tom said, but he couldn't deny a shiver of relief that passed through him at Lee's words.

Lee gave a wry smile. "You know, there are ways I almost wish you had won. You're right about a lot of things."

"Well, bear that in mind when you assume the throne."

"Can I ask you something?" Lee said, and Tom spread his hands in a _go ahead_ gesture. "Why did you give my father a trial? That's the one thing I don't understand. If you hadn't, if you had just shot him… you might have won."

"I know. That's what I wanted to do," Tom admitted. Lee cringed, but Tom didn't care. Let him be squeamish. That was the thing about Lee. Lee was full of grand rhetoric and pretty phrases, but when it came down to it, Lee never would have done what was necessary. Too messy. Lee would sacrifice his life, but he wouldn't sacrifice his soul. "I didn't want the trial. Felix did."

"But why let him?" Lee asked. "Tactically, it was a mistake, and you knew it. And it couldn't have just been the support. You could have easily made it look like the Admiral was killed trying to escape. Why?"

Tom looked at his hands, and then looked up at Lee. "Your father is not the only one with his children," he said. "We all have our favorites. We all coddle them, give them special treatment, make exceptions that we wouldn't make for anyone else. Adama loves Starbuck, so he gives her second chances, he gives her ships, he gives her command. Laura loves you, so she gives you training, gives you her sanction, gives you her Presidency. Adama loves Helo so he turns a blind eye, he loves Sharon so he gives her a position in the Fleet, he loves you so he gives you a battlestar.

"I wasn't lying when I said Felix is mine. My weakness, my favorite. I didn't want it to be personal, but it has been, for a long time. But I have no power, no gifts to hand out. I love Felix, and all I had to give him was a slim chance for a new world and a mockery of a trial."

Lee nodded and looked away. Tom wondered what was percolating through his brain. If Lee had only joined them… he wondered if Adama would have executed his own son.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. He'd taken it off the board in his office just in case, and right now, he was glad he did. He looked at it, smoothing the fraying edges and the creases, and saw himself and Felix, smiling in the New Caprican sun. He handed it to Lee, who took it with surprise.

"The time won't be right immediately," Tom said. "But when it is, use that picture, will you?"

Lee nodded. "I will."

***

The hour passed, and Adama and Tigh and the Marines came. They began the walk down to the launch tube. As they passed an officer's quarters, they stopped long enough to add Felix and Baltar to their procession. The procession slowed considerably.

They passed a row of Marines guarding prisoners in flexcuffs. Tom spotted Racetrack. Her chin was thrust out defiantly, and as he passed, she reached out and touched his hand. A small touch of comfort, and that was all. He took her hand and squeezed it, and smiled at her. He wondered how many of these mutineers Adama planned to execute as well. He got his answer when he saw Noel Allison and two Marines salute Felix. They were pulled out of the line, and Tom realized those were three more for the firing squads.

They had started with Lee walking beside him and Baltar walking beside Felix, but as they neared the launch tube and the corridor narrowed, walking four abreast became too difficult. Lee silently dropped back, and Tom, Felix and Baltar walked together, none of them saying a word. Their steps were slow and measured to keep pace with Felix's agonized progress, but slow and measured was right for a funeral procession, anyway.

And then they were there.

Tom looked at Felix, and at Baltar, who looked at them both. And for a moment, the three of them stood in the cold sunshine of New Caprica, champagne in hand. Tom could feel the breeze again, and he smiled at Felix. This was the second time they'd tried to build something wonderful, and it had worked out no better than the first.

The Marines pulled him and Felix away, and tied them to the chairs. Adama looked like he expected a struggle, but they'd both been ready to die for their beliefs from the beginning. Actually having it put to the test was a small matter, it seemed.

Tom had always known he'd die like this. Die by a gunshot, for whatever were considered his crimes. He was at peace with this, and as he looked over, he saw that Felix was, too. He smiled, one last time, and Felix smiled back. Then together, they turned to face the guns proudly.

The guns rang out, and neither of them knew anything more.

  
***

There was a breeze. A warm breeze and the feeling of waking up from a long sleep. He heard water lapping against a boat, smelled the sea. The darkness lightened, and green filled his vision.

Two figures stood on the bank; a beautiful girl in a black dress and a young man in a suit. They were smiling, waiting, and the girl held flowers.

Next to him, Tom heard laughter.

He turned his head and saw Felix, his uniform jacket crisp with sharp creases, standing on two legs. He waved, and then turned and smiled at Tom with happiness in his eyes.

The girl was Anastasia Dualla, the man was Billy Keikeya. They were young and happy in the sunlight.

"Felix!" Dee called, waving her flowers. "Come home!"

And then Felix was off the boat, Dee in his arms as he swung her around. Tom watched them, and for a moment, he felt envious. But then his own feet were on the grass, and Billy Keikeya was smiling at him, hand extended.

"It's an honor," he said proudly, "to see you again, Mr. Zarek." And Tom knew it was Tom Zarek, freedom fighter, that was being welcomed.

The bank was suddenly filled with people. The first few he looked at he didn't recognize, but Felix obviously did. But then he turned, and he saw faces he knew but hadn't seen in over twenty five years.

His parents. His siblings. Friends. People who had died on Sagittaron, long before the Cylons had a chance to kill them. The sunshine warmed his shoulders and these faces warmed his heart, and he felt himself melting into the heart of a family again.

They melted away, and he went with them. He _felt_ it, he knew he was still with them, and they were near to him and they'd never be separated again. And yet, once again, he stood on that bank, alone with Felix Gaeta. Felix smiled at him with nothing but joy, and Tom reached out and ruffled his curls.

"We're home. We finally made it home."


End file.
